


One way or another

by my_inked_asterism



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, okay same story but upgraded, please trust me with this, yes i did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_inked_asterism/pseuds/my_inked_asterism
Summary: Due to the consequences of a traumatic accident, Dany's life changes forever and things don't seem to go well for her.Until she meets Jon.• • •Last Christmas AU
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 105
Kudos: 157





	1. Waterfalls

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING BUT-  
> Yes, this is a Last Christmas AU. No, the ending is different. 
> 
> I won't spoil a thing about this but please, I now how you're feeling, I know how you felt about the movie and I'm here to fix it. I hope you guys will love this fic as much as I am writing it.  
> If you're wondering why I chose this particular AU the answer is that modern!Dany and Kate did feel close to me, for how ridiculous it might sound. I got inspired as soon as I watched the movie, for three very basic reasons:  
> 1) I love romantic comedies, so I wanted to write one for jonerys.  
> 2) I love happy endings. I liked the movie but that was not MY happy ending.  
> 3) I love Kate, and as I said, she gave me modern!Dany vibes so I tried to give my own adaptation of the character.
> 
> I hope all the above makes sense. I had this story in mind and I actually surprised myself when I decided to put it into words. 
> 
> Some **WARNINGS** :  
> \- There are mentions of depression.  
> \- There are mentions of other relationships (ex. Daenerys x Daario). I won't tag it because I don't want to get nasty comments by Daario's fans. It's nothing deep, nor long, worry not. But well... you know the story.  
> \- I've tried to give my own logical and happier resolution for the ending, although know that it does get angsty. 
> 
> I want to thank my two angels, Fer and Sabrina, for reading and beta-ing the fic and for always supporting me. I'm super lucky to have you guys x
> 
> And to you, readers, thanks for having faith in me. This fic is special to me so please, be gentle ♡

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/49328940472/in/dateposted-public/)

_How can I help you?_

_Please let me try to_

_I can heal the pain_

_That you're feeling inside_

_Whenever you want me_

_You know that I will be_

_Waiting for the day_

_That you say you'll be mine_

  
  


**2018**

Dany hates winter. She hates it almost as much as her brothers do. 

Rhaegar always complains about the numerous layers he has to put on, only to get rid of them once he’s in the office; being dramatic as he is, he would reckon it is _exhausting_. Viserys has maybe a much more legitimate reason to hate winter, since he spends practically the whole season with a cold and probably a quarter of that time with a fever. He’s truly the most sickly person she has ever known. 

As for herself, Dany wouldn’t mind the cold, if she hadn't learned to associate it to school, the busy schedule that comes along with it, and the boredom. Oh, so much boredom. 

She feels _trapped_ in the routine. In wintertime, she can't even step outside for a while without shivering heavily as the incessant wind blows her back in the opposite direction and her face reddens automatically from the freezing cold. 

Dany would find herself staring at the shore from her balcony, watching the horizon that looks infinite, heading to an endless path, so incredibly tempting to her. In winter she doesn’t even make it back home from classes in time to watch the sun set. 

Winter limits her, she decides. Dany has so much energy inside her, she constantly feels like she could take over the world. A storm in a desert, as she likes to define herself. 

So no one really took it well when Aerys decided to move to the North. 

It was necessary, she understands that. Dragonstone is not a safe place anymore, on its way to winning independence at any cost, even if that leads to violence and eventual war. 

They were forced to run away, although her father makes it look like a decision _he_ made, so that their island, their _hometown,_ doesn't seem the scary place it actually is. 

The family waits for her to conclude her last year of university, a summer made of getaway plans and extra hours of work goes by, and by September, they have a new apartment in Winterfell. 

She never saw Dragonstone again. 

* * *

It’s December and she’s alone at home. Alone with her parents, actually, but their company doesn’t really make a difference anyway. Her father is always stuck in front of the computer for work, and her mother is too busy with Christmas preparations.

As for her brothers, Viserys is somehow never home and Rhaegar has found a condo for himself a few miles away from their apartment. Dany couldn’t miss her eldest brother more, especially during Christmas time; the bond she has with him is unique, and sometimes she feels like no one understands her better than he does.

Christmas traditions in the North are so much different from Dragonstone, as she imagined. Dany certainly didn’t expect to see colored shells on the thresholds like they used to do on their island, but she kind of finds it weird that they use _real_ pine trees as Christmas trees. Cutting down a plant to use it as a decoration seems extremely unethical, in her opinion. 

She had seen it done in person for the first time by her neighbors, the Starks, when one day one of them had carried a huge pine up the stairs. The tree was so big that she couldn’t even see the man holding it on his shoulder, save for a glimpse of raven locks, before he closed the door behind him. 

That was so unnecessary.

Dany misses the Christmas parties on the beach, the colored lanterns they set up after dinner to float in the air afterward, and the perfume of all sorts of spices coming from the kitchens. 

The North is not that bad, though. After three months of settling in, Dany has slowly grown to like it, trying to force herself to explore the surroundings every now and then. The snow makes it all much more magical for sure. 

The problem is the people, who she finds it so difficult to talk with. Locals clearly don’t like foreigners, and her neighbors are no exception.

Well, _disliking_ is a harsh word. They would be more likely to ignore them, that’s it. Three months of being right next door and the only one who managed to get something out of them is Rhaegar; he would deny it, but Dany has seen him exchanging some deep looks with a brunette girl who comes over to visit their neighbors at least once a week. 

Being completely honest, she doesn’t even care that much about socializing with them. Now that she’s got a job at the pet shop – after being rejected by a vet lab and an animal clinic, who chose local people over her, instead – Dany spends the majority of her time at work, and by the time she’s back home, she’s too tired to hang out in the city. 

And even if she wanted to, who would she go with? 

The only friend she’s made since she moved here is the librarian who works next door to the pet shop, after they started sharing a lunch break. Her name is Missandei, and she’s probably the kindest person Dany has ever met. 

Taking the ornaments out of the box, determined to decorate the tree, Dany makes a silent resume of the last three months – two months and twenty-two days to be exact – to check her improvements, but mostly to keep her mind busy in her solitude. 

She found a job. Not exactly the career she studied for, but close enough.

She made a friend. Having lunch breaks together makes you friends, doesn’t it?

She had a tour of the city last weekend. One designed for tourists and by bus, but still. 

And she’s decorating a fake Christmas tree, alone. 

Well. That’s a six for now. 

* * *

Flames. There are flames everywhere. The last noise she remembers is the sound of bells announcing the start of Christmas Eve before the ringing was drowned out by an explosion, and then everything became fire. 

The sweet scent of cookies that her mom had made that evening is now replaced by the piercing smell of gas coming from the kitchen, a massive cloud of smoke invading the apartment and expanding uncontrollably along the narrow space of the hallway. 

By the time she makes her way to the kitchen to check the gas valve, the smoke has filled almost the whole house. Dany searches for a cloth to cover her mouth, screaming in the meantime to warn her family members. 

Rhaegar is the first one to reach for her, his blue eyes reflecting the panic she feels growing faster and faster inside her chest. 

Another small explosion bursts from outside the door, reverberating through the walls like an echo of death. She hears her parents’ voice coming from their bedroom, the furthest room from the doorway, sleepy and slow until the realization hits them. 

”You go out, I’ll go get Mom and Dad,” Rhaegar orders her, his beautiful eyes now wide with worry and reddened from the smoke. 

Dany shakes her head and grasps his wrist to stop him. “No. No no please, Rheg, don’t go.” Unable to hold it back, Dany bursts into tears. “Don’t leave me alone.” 

But Rhaegar’s expression remains composed, statuary. He takes her hand in his, and if she didn’t feel it shaking against her own, Dany wouldn’t be able to tell he’s scared as well. 

“Daenerys, you have to go,” he repeats, his trembling voice betraying him. “Here.” 

With his free hand, her brother takes his phone out of his pocket and places it in her hands, now sweaty from fear and the source of heat surrounding them. 

“Run outside, call the firemen and warn Viserys before it’s too late. You got it?”

 _Too late for what!?_ she wants to scream, but the incessant crying won’t let her say a word, her sobs making her unable to breathe regularly. 

“Rhaegar–“

 _“Avy jorrāelan, hāedar,”_ he says in a whisper, kissing her forehead and flashing her a sad smile. “Now go!” 

Against her protests, Dany is pushed outside the door, her brother running in the opposite direction, towards their parents and a black fog. 

And suddenly everything is _so_ much scarier. 

Her mind blacks out, her body moving automatically, following the stairs and the emergency signs. She’s trembling so heavily while descending the stairs that she stumbles after only three steps, the phone falling from her hands. Dany had almost forgotten about it.

She hurries forward and takes it back, disorientated in a building that had recently started to feel like home and that’s now burning down. 

“Vi-Viserys,” she stutters, recording a vocal text for her brother on WhatsApp. “There’s been a gas leak, I- Rhaegar went back to rescue Mom and Dad and I’m al-alone... I don’t know what to do.” She’s sobbing uncontrollably now, the panic eating her from the inside, and she can’t breathe. Either from the gas or the desperation, she doesn’t know. “ _Please_ come here!” 

She waits for the double check sign to appear beside her text to make sure Viserys got the message, before putting the phone back in her pocket. But as soon as she lifts her eyes, her head starts spinning incessantly, her vision blurry all of sudden and Dany feels lost, the dread in her stomach devouring her more than ever. 

She wheezes while getting down the last flat of stairs, but although the fire is not as vast here as it was on her floor, she can still smell the invisible trail of gas she’s left behind, all her attempts to shield her mouth and nose vain. 

Nausea finally comes, the effects of the gas gradually showing in her system and Dany feels her senses going dumb at every step she takes. The last stair looks insurmountable when she reaches it; taking one last step, she loses her balance and falls again, but this time she doesn’t stand up. 

A sense of fatigue overcomes her. Everything is hurting but nothing compares to the pain in her chest, the feeling of pure terror and desperation combined together that makes her want to just lie down and burn with that damn condo. Without realizing it, her tears have never stopped streaming down her face, their saltiness now mixed with the acrid taste of smoke probably staining her cheeks. 

The light coming from the front door is tempting and hopeful but Dany is _so_ tired. Even that small instinct of self-preservation that had brought her here seems forgotten somewhere far in her mind when she finally lets herself rest on the cold floor. The fire never bothered her anyway. 

She closes her eyes; an echo of sirens and explosions fills her ears but she ignores them, feeling completely out of the world. 

Minutes go by… or hours. She’s lost track of time.

Then she’s lifted up. 

Even with her limbs numb, and her senses blurry, Dany suddenly feels someone embracing her; what she imagines to be two big arms now hold her and raise her from the ground. Distant despite the closeness, she hears a groan of struggle that suggests the rescuer is a man.

“‘M not leavin’ you here,” she hears the stranger pant, before coughing heavily as he tightens his grip on her. 

In her head she’s thanking him, over and over again, but she doesn’t manage to say the words. 

By the time her body hits the gurney, she has fainted. 

The sirens get replaced by silence. 

And suddenly everything is black. 

* * *

#  **Faulting and Gas Discharge in the Winterfell Area**

_An entire flat destroyed after numerous explosions. Nine people deceased._

  
  


*********

> #  ** Latest News  
>  **

**_On the very first hours of Christmas Eve, two families die from gas leak._ **

  
  


Looking for the block’s supervisor for further details about the home’s status of maintenance. 

  
  


*********

#  **NEWS**

# Accident in Winterfell: Nine People Die 

Fourth floor of Thenn Avenue n.16 explodes from a gas leak. Nine people perish in the fire, including members of the ancient Northern family, the Starks. More information on page 4. 

* * *

  
  
  


**2019**

“What about _that_ fish?” the boy asks his mother for the third time, gluing a caramel-stained finger to the aquarium’s glass. 

“Oh honey, that one is absolutely _adorable_ ,” his mom chants, all sugar and excessively radiant. “It has _such_ a peculiar color.”

Red. It’s a red fish and it still was one hour ago when the boy had spotted it for the first time. 

“Isn’t it?” he says, as if a 6 year old kid even knew what ‘peculiar’ means. “Mmh…”

Brandon – because of course he has to have the most obnoxious name ever – walks along the glass for the fifth time to check all the fish once again. 

Dany had sworn to kill him the third time he did that, so the brat here is really testing her patience. 

She soon loses interest in him as he starts discussing some plausible pet names with his mother while they scan the aquarium together. 

A handsome brunette guy with asian traits walks in the shop and immediately draws her attention, Dany easily ignoring the kid now. 

“... Turtles are _so_ cute, mom.” 

The Japanese god proceeds forward, taking a look at the animals, focusing in particular on a couple of parrots. Probably the quietest parrots ever born, but every day Dany’s thankful for that. 

“Sea turtles are _marvellous,_ indeed, darling.”

Maybe because of her fixed – and slightly creepy– stare on him, or maybe because fate ultimately exists and the world had just become a magical place, the Asian guy turns around, sees her, and fucking _winks._

She internally claps a high-five to herself. 

“Mommy look, IGUANAS!” 

Her eyes dart to the boy in alarm.

Not the iguanas. 

Against her will, Dany ignores the deep gaze of the guy, and focuses back on the Brandon kid instead, rushing to reach him across the shop. 

When both mother and son catch her jumping on them so quickly, they are slightly taken aback. 

“What about the iguanas, sweetie?” Dany says, forcing her gentle side – if that even exists – to come out. 

“I want one,” the boy states. 

“He wants one,” the mother echoes him. 

“Yes, I heard.” Even with the smile stuck on her face, they make it _so_ hard not to snap. “I’m afraid you have to be warned about a thing or two about iguanas, though,” Dany adds, trying to keep her expression as straight as possible. 

“What is that?” the lady asks. “What is the cost?”

“$40 each, but it’s not that–“

“Oh, we can _totally_ afford them!”

“I want the biggest one, Mom!”

“Of course love, of course. Did you hear him?”

“B-but… you have to know about their nutrition, and–”

“Oh, we’ve got the housekeeper for that.”

“And they need a specific environment to live in.”

“We’ll certainly give it the attention it needs. Right Brandy?”

“Wow, look at its tongue Mom!!”

“Yes, sweetie, it has a very long tongue, indeed.”

“ _He._ They’re all males.”

“Sure. We’ll take the black one.”

“But the red fish…”

“We want the iguana.”

“They bite.”

Silence. 

“They bite?” The lady narrows her eyes, and Dany knows she said the right thing now. Whatever might put her beloved son at risk can’t be worthy of anything, not even $40.

She tries to hold back a smirk as she answers. 

“They do. They can actually turn pretty violent if they happen not to bond with their master,” she says, then lets out a fake sigh. “Very unpredictable animals,these are.”

Brandon doesn’t seem to mind her warnings very much, but the same can’t be said for his mother, who’s now pulling a conflicted face, clearly considering the new information. 

She stays silent for some time, before eventually asking, “How much for the red fish?” 

Dany smirks, victorious. 

“They usually go for $25 each, but since they’re the only ones left, I can make a special price for you and sell it for $20,” Dany says. 

“Right, so, uhm… You liked the red fish, honey, didn’t you? This big one up here?” She points at the aquarium, trying to deviate her son’s attention from the reptiles. 

“But the iguana…”

“We’ll get it for your next birthday.”

The mother allows the boy a few retorts more, before eventually convincing him for good to drop the argument, and within a few minutes the couple walk out of the shop with a plastic bag filled of water and two red guppy fish inside. 

Only when the doors finally close behind them Dany lets out the sigh of relief she had been holding for the past half hour. Exhausted, she reaches for the door and turns the hanging label that says “closed” towards the outside as the clock strikes 19. 

As she always does before leaving the shop, she checks all the animal feed in the cages, cleans the aquarium’s glass, and mops around to the notes of an instrumental playlist she downloaded specifically to relax the pets. She’s just dropped the mop down when she notices Drogon’s copper eyes trained on her from inside the cage nearby, wide and awake, observing every action. 

She takes the cleaning gloves off and reaches for him, the iguana now lifting his head, curious, soon joined by his two brothers. Dany smiles fondly at them, putting a hand inside the cage to caress their heads; no matter how big they get, or scary to other people, she will always be incredibly fascinated by these animals. 

“Are you going to buy those lizards yourself some day or will you just keep sabotaging the sale ‘till I decide to fire you?” 

_Shit_. 

Dany turns around slowly, a grimace on her face as she watches her boss draw closer to her as if she’s just been caught in a crime. 

“Tyrion, it’s not what it seems. That spoiled kid really didn’t deserve them,” she whines. 

“It’s not up to _you_ to decide.” Despite the seriousness in Tyrion’s eyes, his tone is far from angry, or scolding, which is enough to let her relax a bit. 

“I know…” She looks down. “I will take them when I have my own place to live.”

“Your brother doesn’t second your choice of pets?” the dwarf asks, feigning surprise. “I wonder why.” 

Dany pouts. “It’s not that. _I_ don’t trust him with having an animal around. Let alone three.”

“You always say he’s never at home.”

“Those are my favorite parts of the day, yep.”

Now it’s Tyrion’s turn to pout, his arms crossed and the scolding look back and fixed on her. “You two should take more care of one another. After everything you’ve been through–”

“I let the therapist know,” she cuts him off. “Can I go now?”

He keeps looking at her, his eyes growing sad for some reason and an expression full of pity pulls at his face. She hates pity.

“Sure. See you tomorrow, Daenerys.”

“It’s Dany,” she corrects him, and she closes her door behind her without turning back. 

If Tyrion only knew… He’s never met her brother, he has no idea what it’s like to live with him. What’s worse is that a part of her that she would gladly like to ignore is aware that her boss is right, that Viserys is the only member of her family she has left. That’s why they decided to go to therapy together. It’s just… He makes it so damn hard sometimes; they’re both broken to pieces, yet none of those pieces match with the other’s. Viserys has always been the rebel of the family, but never towards her. He was caring, not as protective as their older brother, but they used to get along, most of the time. 

Now they barely look at each other. 

The light turns green across the street and Dany starts walking again, earpods on and the piercing cold sinking through to her bones. The streets are always incredibly crowded at this hour of the day, all the people rushing on the road, impatient to go back home from a tiring day of work, back to their families and hearth. They always pass by her, whose march is so much slower, less frenetic, because she doesn’t crave home the way they do.

The music in her ears stops all of sudden, and she’s forced to look down at her phone to find out Viserys had just sent her a text informing her that he’ll be back home for dinner tonight. It hasn’t happened in a week and the fact makes her somehow nervous. He’s too unpredictable to know how the day will end with the two of them in the same room, and today Dany is too weary to tempt fate. 

So instead of continuing on straight forward, towards her apartment, she decides to take the first road on the left that she knows leads to one of the most famous ale pubs of Winterfell. 

On her way, Dany puts on the red lipstick she always keeps in her bag for every eventuality, braids two locks of hair behind her head at her best, and finally enters the bar. 

* * *

The alarm wakes her up so violently, Dany almost falls out of the bed. When she opens her eyes, sight slightly blurry and with the kind of headache she’s unfortunately gotten so used to, her first instinct is to throw up, but the nausea is slowly replaced by panic as she looks around and doesn’t recognize the room she’s in. 

She keeps scanning the place, messy and wild, just like the man lying beside her. Naked. 

“Hey beautiful.”

Dany adjusts her sight and sees him smirking from the other side of the bed, his dark hair ruffled against the pillow as she imagines hers is too. 

“Mm,” Dany whines, stretching as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “What time is it?” 

“Nine,” he replies. “It was so late when we got here. We can get back to sleep and then go for round two, whatcha say?” he offers, that mischievous smile still stuck on his handsome face like he was born with it. He scoots closer to kiss her and Dany shifts backwards instinctively. 

“I’d like to, but I should really _really_ go. I have to be at work in an hour, so...” Dany says, getting out of bed and searching for her clothes, which are scattered everywhere on the floor. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“First door on the left.” 

She does all her morning routine in a hurry, in a stranger’s house and with her head pulsing, but she knows that all of that is nothing compared to Tyrion’s rage if her boss catches her opening the shop late. You never know how much anger such a small body can contain until you witness it. 

Getting back to the room, she notices the guy has fallen back to sleep. Dany contemplates the idea of leaving the house in silence but she soon rejects it, finding it rude; she did have great sex after all. 

She coughs. Hard. Harder. Until he finally wakes up. 

“Hey, uhm, Derek. It’s Derek, right?”

“Daario,” he replies, annoyed.

“Daario. Yes. So...I’m going. Thank you for last night, I really had a great time.” _If I could only remember,_ she thinks. 

“Me too, babe. We’ll keep in touch, don’t worry.” He winks at her, his eyes studying her body like he’s having flashbacks of last night. “Enjoy your day,” he finally says when his gaze goes back to her face. 

“Thanks,” she replies, ignoring the pretentiousness. Gods, she must’ve been _so_ wasted to get along with him. “See ya, Derek.” 

She closes the door behind her in time to hear his shout, correcting the name from the bedroom. 

For the first time in months, Dany is grateful for the harsh morning breeze, the cold wind working like a bucket of freezing water on her face and helping her clear her mind. Her head still aches, but at least the cold is keeping her awake, despite the few hours of sleep she got. 

She fixes her makeup on the bus, buys peppermints and a takeaway cappuccino at the coffee shop, and by the time she arrives at the pet shop, it’s 10 o'clock. 

Nailed it. 

Except she doesn’t, because as she inserts the keys, in that exact moment the door swings open to reveal Tyrion standing there, chin up and arms crossed, looking at her so seriously it makes her feel like a child under his scolding gaze. 

“You’re late,” he snaps.

“I’m not, it’s 10 o’clock!”

“Yes, and that’s opening time to _clients,”_ he retorts, letting her in. “I’m not even gonna ask you why you’re late.” 

“I just had a... uhm... rough night,” Dany stutters, putting on her uniform and carefully avoiding her boss’s eyes. 

“I can see.” Tyrion stands in front of her, eyes narrowed to study her, and if Dany didn’t know him well, she would say he’s trying really hard not to grin. Finally, he walks away. “I’m just gonna assume you got that bruise on your clavicle from fighting with your iguanas.” 

“ _Fuck.”_ She quickly reaches for the collar of her polo and buttons it up. 

Right at that moment, the first _ding_ of the day echoes in the shop, signaling the arrival of the first client: a girl around half her age, dark haired and fair skinned, walking in with a huge, pure white pup in her arms. 

“Hello,” Dany greets her with a smile that gets only wider at the sight of the puppy. It must be a husky, or something near that family of dogs anyway, with thick, soft fur, completely white from the tip of his small ears to his paws. “How can I help you?”

“Hi,” the little girl starts. “Last night I found this pup on the road. I think he’s healthy, he was just really hungry when my mom and I found him. We called the shelter to take him since my parents can’t bring him there because of their work schedules, but they told us to entrust him to the nearest pet shop or animal clinic to register him in the adoption list.” She says it all with such diplomacy for a ten year old girl that Dany feels like she could hire her to work with her right away. 

“First we have to check if he has a chip. If he doesn’t, I’ll start filling out the file for adoption, we’ll take him to the shelter and post a flyer in the shop,” Dany says, looking for the chip scanner. “What’s your name?”

“Lyanna.” 

“Here Lyanna, hold the pup,” Dany instructs her, pointing at the desk.

The dog has no chip, as Dany had suspected, so she tells the girl to leave the pup at the shop, promising to go through the whole procedure she had explained before as soon as possible. 

“Thank you,” Lyanna finally says, a small smile pulling at her lips. 

“Thank _you_ for taking care of this ball of fur here,” Dany tells her, smiling as well. “Thanks to you he will be safe.”

As soon as the girl steps out of the pet shop, the dog seems to wake all of sudden; he starts rolling on the desk where Dany lied him and almost falls down; he howls, watching everything with those two big red eyes that should frighten her to death if he wasn’t so bloody adorable, his tongue lolling out in excitement as if he knows he had just been rescued. 

“Oh, come here,” Dany calls to him when he starts running around the shop, whining and grateful to be alone in the shop in such a situation. “I have to put a flea collar on you!” 

But of course he doesn’t understand. Her screaming and running seem to have quite the opposite effect on the small pup indeed, who gets only more excited and runs faster as she desperately tries to catch him. 

She’s almost caught him when suddenly a client enters the shop and the dog immediately takes advantage of it, rushing towards the entrance and right out the door.

“No no no, _please–_ ” Dany moans, desperate as she follows the pup out, passing by the young couple that had just walked in. “Hi, welcome to the shop, I’ll be right back,” she greets them in a hurry as she dashes out onto the street and starts running behind the little husky. She regrets it almost immediately when the cold wind hits her in the face the very moment she crosses the threshold with no jacket on. 

She has no time to go back to the shop though, because the pup has just begun trotting among the people absentmindedly and, to Dany’s horror, she notices he’s now heading towards the road, where lines of cars are speeding in every direction. 

“For _fuck’s sake,_ come here!” she yells, running to catch him, a few feet separating them now. 

She pushes forward with a leap, arms outstretched, and the moment her hands sink into the softness of the dog’s white fur, her head hits something else and she’s suddenly pushed backward, inevitably falling to the ground. 

The pup licks her face as if to comfort her, and it’s so adorable that Dany’s confused whether she would rather murder him or cuddle him. 

Eventually, she opts for the second one and finally manages to tie the collar around the dog’s neck.

“You alright?”

So focused on the pup in her arms, Dany had almost forgotten about the impact and the fact that she’s still sitting on the sidewalk because of that. 

Slowly, she lifts her eyes to find an outstretched hand and two grey eyes staring at her with such intensity it leaves her breathless for a solid second. 

If her face reveals any of that, she’s not aware. However, soon pride gets the upper hand and, shaking her head, Dany rejects the help and stands up by herself. 

The stranger’s deep look remains fixed on every movement she makes, his lips slightly stretched into a relaxed smile that makes his harmonic features even more beautiful, as if he was carved out of marble. His jaw, sharp and regular, is covered with a well-finished raven beard, the same shade as his curly hair, half tied up behind his head. He must be around her age, and everything in his look emanates a sense of wildness and safety at the same time that makes her feel strangely comfortable. 

“Fine,” Dany manages to say, realizing she’s been staring at the young man without actually replying. 

His smile widens only a bit, and he points at the pup she holds with a nod. “Quite a rebel is your dog, isn’t he?” he says, a strong northern accent coming out through his words. 

“He’s not my dog, actually.”

They pause, stare at each other for a while like they’ve been hypnotized by one another, curious to discover more without even bothering to look away. Then a whine from the pup brings her back to reality; Dany turns on her heel without saying a word and walks back towards the shop. 

She’s just crossed the threshold when she realizes the door hasn’t closed yet behind her, and to her surprise, she turns around to find the black-haired man has followed her into the pet shop. 

“Are you stalking me?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. 

“No.”

“Then what?” 

“The flea collar on your dog–:

“Not my dog.”

“On _that_ dog, is not right.”

She furrows. “What do you mean it’s not right, it’s a flea collar.”

“Aye, but it’s not recommended for puppies because of the chemical substances they have. If you want to avoid fleas you could try some essential oils like citronella or lavender when you wash him.”

She doesn’t reply at first; just puts the dog down in a corner and slowly gets closer to the stranger, studying him suspiciously.

“And you walked all this way to the shop just to tell me this?”

The man just shrugs, still looking at her without blinking. 

“I have a veterinary degree. I’m very well aware of what could or could not hurt a pet.”

“Well,” the guy starts, his voice calm while staring at her. “My sister’s dog got a skin irritation because of one of those,” he says. “And it was a husky, too.” 

She stays silent for a while, a challenging look directed at him as if she expects him to take it back; as if his opinion, a stranger’s, mattered to her.

But the young man doesn’t add anything more, he just keeps looking at her calm, waiting for her agreement. 

Then Dany sighs, exasperated. “Alright then, no more flea collars,” she finally concedes. “Happy now?”

She doesn’t even bother to wait for his reply and immediately turns around, holding back a snort of annoyance as she takes the first step towards the shop’s desk. Except the first step is all she manages to make, suddenly held back by a hand on her wrist, gentle yet strong at the same time, that doesn’t allow her to go further. 

“Wait.”

Dany’s eyes fill with fire as she turns her gaze to meet his iron eyes already staring at her, trying to ignore the inexplicable charge of electricity pooling in her whole body at his touch. 

”Er, I actually also came here to ask you if you’d like to go for a stroll with me later, maybe,” he says tentatively, and Dany hears the calmness in his voice waver now. 

“A stroll?” she repeats, half surprised, half amused.

“Aye.”

“To do what, exactly?”

“To chat,” he just says with a tiny smile. “Know each other, see the city.”

“I know the city,” Dany replies, but it doesn’t come out as sharp as she had planned it to. The more she talks with this guy, the lighter she feels inside somehow, any negative feeling lurking inside her now forgotten.

“Even the five secrets?” he asks with a grin.

“The what?”

“The five secrets of Winterfell. You don’t know them?”

“No,” she admits, and despite her attempts to sound indifferent to the news, Dany can’t help but feel incredibly curious about it.“Never heard of them.”

“Well, I can tell you the first one tonight if you hang out with me,” he offers again, his grey eyes shining. “What time do you finish working?”

“Wha– at 19, but I didn’t even–”

“Sounds awesome. See you tonight then…” he comes closer to read the name on her tag; he smells of cologne and peppermint and she forces her eyes not to close in pleasure at the scent. “Daenerys.”

“It’s Dany,” she corrects him. 

“Fine.” His smile widens, and he backs up to the door, still facing her. “Bye, Dany.”

“Wait!” she calls him. “I don’t even know your name!”

With his hand on the knob already, the man looks at her, his raven waves, now hit by the sunlight, looking impossibly softer; tilting his head, he opens the door slightly and pauses before walking out.

“I’m Jon Snow.” 

* * *

Jon Snow shows up in front of the shop at 7 p.m. sharp and Dany hadn’t realized how much she had been hoping he really would come until she spots his silhouette through the door glass. 

She doesn’t even have the _time_ for this! Her life is a mess. _She_ is a mess. She needs to get her shit together before wasting her time with the umpteenth random guy she meets. 

Yet when she turns the sign on the door to “closed”, says goodbye to Tyrion, and finally walks out to meet him, his reassuring smile and solid presence make her think, quite naively, that he might be different from the others. 

“Hi,” he greets her. 

He didn’t change his clothes, she notices; he’s wearing the same black coat as before, with grey jeans and Dr. Martens on. 

“Hi.”

He comes closer and the same scent of cologne and peppermint invades her senses for a sweet second. 

“You ready for your private tour?” he asks, smirking. 

“You know, you’re not really my type,” she snaps, ignoring his grin. It’s a defense mechanism she turns on every time someone tries to get through her walls – she tests them, sees if they’re down to stick around. Dany doesn’t know why she needs that confirmation from this guy too, but she doesn’t really have control over her insecurities. 

She just cannot let people in if they’re not willing to stay. 

“Oh,” he says, surprised. “How so?”

“You’re too short.”

He chuckles. “Still taller than you.”

“Well then, _that_ definitely makes you special,” she deadpans, and without realizing, her feet have started moving forward, following him automatically as he begins walking out of the square. 

“Then stop being demanding about it,” he says, but nothing in his tone sounds bitter, or mocking. On the contrary, everything about him puts her at ease and makes her feel strangely relaxed. “Why are you smilin’?” he then asks. 

“What?” She hadn’t even realized she was. “Oh. ‘Cause, you’re weird.”

He laughs, and it warms her. “Okay,” he says. “Well, you should do it more often. You have a beautiful smile.” 

He says it with such nonchalance, as if it was somewhat granted and unnecessary, but still important to point out; it leaves her stunned for a moment, the way her cheeks are burning beyond her control, and Dany’s glad the sky’s dark enough to cloak it because no matter what, this is just _not_ normal for her. 

She doesn’t smile at the first stranger she meets, and mostly, she does not _blush._

Luckily, Jon doesn’t get upset at her lack of response. He keeps walking by her side, throwing her a glance every now and then with that small smile on his face, checking her out. 

As they keep strolling around the city, Dany finds out enough about Jon Snow to have a full first impression of him: he’s playful and very charming at the same time, broody but calm, sarcastic when she provokes him but smart and reflexive in his replies, and Dany can’t help but be incredibly fascinated by this rare mix of characteristics all packed into just one person. 

“So,” he starts after a while, turning to his right down a very narrow alley. “Where are you from? Your accent and full name are not typical of the North for sure.” 

“I could have been born here and then grew up elsewhere,” she points out to challenge him. 

“Uhm, with that hair?” He glances at her silver curls with a questioning look, his grey eyes studying her in a way that sets fire to her chest. “I don’t think so.”

Right, her hair. All her attempts to integrate into the city were vain because of that damn badge her whole family carries like a crown; people wouldn’t even approach her in the first place for how evident it is that she’s a foreigner. 

Dany snorts, impossible to deny him at this point. “I’m from Dragonstone.”

“And why did you move to cold Winterfell?”

She tries, she really tries not to darken at the memories now rushing in into her mind. Her hometown, her childhood, her family… She lost everything and it all started because of that bloody island and the ones ruling it. 

“Is everythin’ okay?” Jon asks, stopping her by grabbing her arm, softly. Dany doesn’t want to look at him; if she does she knows she’ll spit it all out, but she can’t let anyone in, not yet. She has too much inside, all the broken pieces that she still has to figure out how to put together. 

So instead of looking up at him, Dany carefully avoids his eyes, swallowing down the lump in her throat and taking deep breaths until her heartbeat goes back to normal. The last time she had a panic attack in public she almost suffocated from her own sobs, scaring the shit out of the passers-by— she’s not doing that again. 

“I’m fine,” she replies, keeping her tone as flat as possible. “I moved to the North with my family last year, after the Independence War against King’s Landing. It just wasn’t safe to stay there anymore.”

“Aye, I understand… I’ve been in war after the military academy and it was… hell. Literally hell. And I was prepared for it; I can’t imagine how it had to be for people like you and your family to find yourselves in the middle of it, with no warning whatsoever.”

“It was awful,” Dany states with a nod, her tone emotionless like she had learned to turn it while speaking about her past. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, genuinely, his eyes honest as he stares at her. 

Finally, she looks up at him and flashes him a sad smile. “Thank you.”

Focused so much on his words, and following him blindly, Dany has lost count of the miles they traveled. When she allows herself to check the surroundings and spots a small, narrow bridge in front of her, she feels both surprised and disoriented, having no clue where they’ve come to. 

“Where are we?” she asks.

Jon smiles. Turning to the small bridge as well, he takes her hand in his and pulls her behind him without saying a word, until they reach the middle and he climbs onto the edge to sit. 

“This is the Kingsroad bridge, best known as the shortest bridge in the whole country.”

Dany’s eyes widen. “Is it?” she asks, sitting next to Jon on the railing.

“Aye. It’s only 15 feet long and connects the center to the countryside,” Jon explains. “In the past, kings and queens used to get to the city center by this bridge, whenever invited, because all the other sides of the walls are surrounded by woods, so it was tougher to go through those.” 

“Kings and queens?” Dany looks down at her dirty boots, at her old Levi’s that she bought in a vintage open-air market a couple of months ago, and she huffs a laugh. “I’m quite a fall from grace.”

“You probably never went to the History Museum, then. I’ve seen the pictures of all those ancient queens and believe me, you’re _way_ more beautiful than any of them,” he tells her, looking at her from the corner of his eye, that sincere grin still pulling at his lips, like he can’t help it while talking to her. 

With any other guy, she would think they’re flattering her to flirt, not to say worse. But Jon… she’s known him for less than twenty-four hours and nothing in his attitude has given her any hint of malice; his compliments don’t seem to have a secondary purpose, his eyes don’t linger on her body like she’s prey, but rather something to protect, and his words always sound genuine.

It feels like he’s the realest person she’s ever met since… the accident. 

Dany turns around to look at him, fixing her gaze on his face, feeling her own reddening already. She studies him silently and thinks that, for feeling _so_ real, Jon Snow does look quite like a dream. 

“What?” he asks, catching her lingering look. 

“Nothing,” she hurries to say, making him smile. “You didn’t tell me the secrets yet.”

“The secrets?”

“The five secrets of Winterfell,” Dany says, brow furrowing at his confusion. “Unless you made them up.”

Jon's eyes suddenly grow wide. He stares at her for a good minute before, to her astonishment, he bursts into laughter. 

“What?” Dany asks, a rush of annoyance rising in her chest. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’ nothin’, I’m sorry. I just… I thought you would’ve googled them yourself today. Didn’t think you would’ve really waited for me to tell you,” he admits, looking at her with a ghost of laughter still visible in his eyes.

It hits her just now how true that is. She’s been literally _dying_ the whole day from curiosity – although she would never admit it to Jon – yet, since he had promised to come back and tell her the secret, she’s forced herself to patiently wait for this moment to come, confident in his word. The word of a stranger. 

“Yeah well, I was at work, remember?” She can actually use her phone at work when the shop is empty and Tyrion is far enough not to catch her; besides her lunch break lasts an hour, which is more than sufficient time to do such research, but still, Dany hopes her excuse is enough to shield her feelings from him. What kind of feelings, she doesn’t know yet. 

“So? Are you going to tell me or not?”

Jon adjusts himself on the bridge’s railing, getting closer to her, their hands only a few inches apart. Dany shockingly notices he isn’t wearing gloves despite the freezing cold of the late evening, and the impulse of taking his hands in hers and feeling his warmth again is almost unbearable, so she looks away. 

He doesn’t reply immediately, a comfortable silence setting in between them. When Dany glimpses at him he’s smiling.

“The first secret of Winterfell is the waterfalls in the Wolfswood,” he says. 

Dany’s eyes grow wide in surprise. “Waterfalls?” she exclaims. “There are _waterfalls_ in Winterfell?”

Jon chuckles, visibly amused by her shock and looks at her. “Aye. They’re actually the only waterfalls in the North, but not many people know about them ‘cause they’re sort of hidden by a hill.”

“I can’t believe it,” Dany says, smiling as well as she turns to face him. She can’t help but think how bright Jon’s eyes look even in the dim light of the evening, icy grey yet so warm with their gaze on her. “And how did you find out?”

“I used to go there with my dad and my siblings to hike. My dad lived here all his life and basically knows all the corners of the city,” he tells her. Then he looks away for a moment, a dreamy look crossing his face as if he’s been just brought back in front of that massive wall of water; his eyes shut and a sudden wish of seeing into his mind, visiting his amazing memories of a childhood she never had, forms in her heart. “They’re truly spectacular,” he finally states, opening his eyes again. 

“I can imagine,” she just says. “I don’t think there are waterfalls on Dragonstone.”

“Well, but there’s the sea,” he points out.

“True,” Dany agrees, the smile on her face now growing sad because suddenly all _her_ memories come to surface. The beaches, the relaxing sound of the waves crashing on the rocks beneath her house, the salty smell of the sea that stung her nose and filled her lungs. Gods, in Dragonstone even _air_ has a perfume. 

Before she gets overwhelmed by nostalgia again, Dany shakes her head and looks back at Jon, whose eyes are already on her, curious, studying her expression.

“You look sad,” Jon observes. 

“Get used to it.”

He laughs, unable to repress it; a playful smile pulls at her lips.

“Your smile’s prettier when it’s not sad,” Jon says then in such an endearing voice that it’s almost enough to comfort her for good. 

“Kinda don’t have control over that,” she tells him, ignoring the warmth filling her chest at his words. But before he has time to retort, she interjects, “So...what about the other secrets?” 

Jon’s eyebrows raise. “I won’t tell you.”

“What?” she almost shouts, indignant. “This morning you said–”

“The _first_ one, I said.” He grins, clearly satisfied by her frustration. “I’ll tell you the second one next week if you promise not to check it on the internet.” 

“And why should I do that?” Now it’s her turn to arch her brows, skeptical. Despite her rhetorical question, a part of her truly wishes for him to give her a legitimate reason. 

“‘Cause the next secrets I can also _show_ you.” He looks at her in the eye, his smile slightly wider and his eyes deeper, as if words aren’t necessary to convince her if he just keeps staring at her like that. “If you want,” Jon then adds with a whisper.

“Really? You can take me where they are?” Dany asks in surprise, her voice quiet even if it’s only the two of them on the small bridge. 

“Aye. The waterfalls are much further and I couldn’t bring you there, but the others of course I can,” he reassures her. “Okay, let’s make an agreement. What day is it today?”

“Friday.”

“Alright. Every Friday I’ll show you a different secret of Winterfell,” he offers, still grinning. 

Dany huffs a laugh at first, his adorable puppy expression warming her heart at once. “You’re so weird,” she says, shaking her head with a shade of amusement still on her lips. Then she looks up at Jon, who has now outstretched a hand, expectant. It’s the second time he’s offered her his hand that day, Dany notices. 

Without overthinking it, Dany’s hand moves automatically towards his, a wave of trust charging through her as she takes his hand and watches his smile widen, revealing two small dimples she hadn’t spotted before on his cheeks. 

“Deal,” she says. 

She squeezes his hand and, as his thumb softly moves on her skin, and his eyes take her in, mesmerized, something unknown suddenly settles inside her when that one single word comes out of her mouth. 

It seems to her that she has just agreed to something much bigger than a weekly tour of the city, but for how much she tries to rack her brains to decipher that emotion, she can’t figure it out. 

Looking at Jon’s reassuring smile though, Dany doesn’t feel any rush to discover it all today. 

They sit in silence for a while more, enjoying the other’s company until the stars eventually turn brighter and the air colder. 

They step off the bridge way after sunset; Jon offers to walk her back to the center “like the kings and queens used to do,” to quote him, which causes Dany to laugh at once and manages to make her feel somehow important— as if she was wearing a real crown on her head, instead of her braided one. 

They arrive at her bus stop twenty minutes later, and after only five minutes waiting the vehicle shows up in front of them. She had actually planned to go to the bar after work, like she does every Friday night, but surprisingly enough the prospect of getting wasted doesn’t seem so tempting now – not as tempting as a hot bowl of noodles and a Netflix movie, anyways.

Dany looks up at Jon, beaming. “Thank you for walking me here.” 

“No problem,” he replies, winking at her, although the other eye doesn’t quite manage to stay fully open as he does so, which Dany finds incredibly cute, holding back a chuckle at that. “See you at the shop?” he asks tentatively.

“You can find me there.” She smiles back.

The doors open and she hesitates a minute, before eventually getting on board. Dany waves at him from the bus and, with an outburst of fondness, she blows him a kiss with her hand, which makes Jon’s smile even wider.

Then the engine starts again, and the doors close in front of her. The artificial warmth of the heat hits her skin, but for the first time since she moved in, Dany wishes she had stayed outside instead. 

Before the bus starts moving, a shout draws her attention back to the sidewalk. 

She sees Jon waving at her. “And don’t forget to smile!” 

  
  



	2. Keep's Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in his scolding position, Jon’s coat has fallen open behind him, only to reveal the tight black shirt he wears underneath, shaping to his torso so well that she finds herself wondering about his abs instead of listening to his answer.   
> He finishes talking and all she hears is a buzz, a far echo of his voice despite the closeness and the almost total absence of people around them. She has to blink several times to focus back on his words, shaking her head in order to remove all the uthopic scenarios she had just pictured in her mind. Those would definitely make her enthusiastic.   
> “Excuse me, what?” Dany asks, her attention drawn back to his face.   
> “It’s the keep’s door, actually,” he repeats. “What were you thinkin’ about?” Jon then asks with narrowed eyes as he approaches her, his hand slipping to her lower back, a silent invitation to follow him.   
> “Iguanas,” she lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Valentine y'all <3
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful, darling friends Sabrina and Fer for beta-ing my story, as always. You two are the best and I'm so, so grateful. 
> 
> Enjoy!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/49537710068/in/dateposted-public/)

After four hours of working nonstop, Dany feels like she’s just seen an oasis in the desert when she spots Missandei already chilling at the bar, waiting for her. 

With a sigh of relief, she drags herself over to the chair kept free for her, her friend greeting her warmly when right at that moment, a waiter interjects and brings two big bowls to their table, placing the meals in front of them. 

“Wha–”

Missandei winks at her, smiling and clearly amused by her friend’s astonishment. 

“You ordered for me?” Dany asks, shocked, as the waiter leaves, almost weeping out of joy for how  _ starving  _ she is.

Missandei chuckles. After about a year of friendship her friend perfectly knows that when it comes to food, Dany can get extremely emotional. “Yes, you weirdo,” she says, between laughs. “I saw you were coming late and asked the waiter for two Caesars.”

“Oh  _ gods,  _ it’s a Caesar salad,” Dany squeals, excited, which causes Missandei to burst into laughter again. “Bless you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Missandei says as they both start eating. “You had a lot to do at the store today?”

“Yeah, it was hell.” Dany sighs, taking a bite of her salad. “We had the delivery of new merchandise and supplies to sort, the shop was full of people,  _ and,  _ as if that wasn’t hard enough to handle, the vet came for the monthly check for all the animals, too,” she explains. “There’s just  _ so _ much to do on Fridays.”

Missandei studies her, her expression quizzical. “And… is that a good thing?”

“I mean, yes. But it’s also stressful as hell,” Dany replies, confused as well by Missandei’s tone. 

“Then why did you smile?”

Her eyes widen. She can almost spot the violet sparkle of surprise in her eyes reflected in her friend’s, clearly not expecting that question. 

“What?” Dany asks carefully.

“You smiled when you said you’ve got a lot to do on Fridays.”

She pauses. 

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did,” Missandei retorts, and now she’s the one smiling, a playful smirk pulling at her full lips. “Are you hiding something, miss Targaryen?”

Oh, does she hate this part. The luck of having found such a good friend in Missandei is priceless for sure, but the closer the two girls get, the easier it becomes for her friend’s careful eyes to read her. It’s nothing she’s forced her to do – to open up to her. Dany  _ wants  _ to. But at the same time she can’t stop thinking about Rhaegar, who used to be her dearest advisor, her bravest protector and her only confidant. 

The same comfort she used to feel in her eldest brother’s words, she has now found again in her best friend; despite it taking Dany a while to let it go and fully open up to Missandei, she knows it’s for the best. The girl’s just so easy to trust, with her kind manners and reassuring smiles. 

But hells, the struggle. After what happened to her family there was  _ so  _ much to say, and Dany is still not sure how much she wants Missandei to know about it. 

She knows she has trauma. She knows she’s working through it. But the details about the accident and the cures, Dany had spared her. 

Talking about guys is no problem, in general. Those conversations don’t even last long – not longer than her relationships anyways, when she starts one. As for the occasional hook-up she has at the bar, Dany doesn’t feel the need to tell her friend, either from the lack of importance or of memories. 

And now there’s Jon, for whom she somehow already cares so much. She certainly has memories of him, and some vivid ones. 

She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to Missandei, how just a glance from his grey eyes would make her swoon inside, her heart skipping a beat whenever he looks at her. 

No. No details, for now, she restates.

“I met a guy last week,” Dany finally says. 

“Oh.” Missandei’s smile broadens. “Tell me about him.” 

“Well, his name is Jon and…” Dany tries to rack her brain for important facts to tell her friend, but nothing consistent comes to the surface. She’s spent only a few hours with Jon after all; the only relevant thing she knows about him is the way he makes her feel, rather than random facts about his life, and the realization takes her aback for a minute. “And I actually don’t know much more about him,” she continues, a sense of frustration growing in her chest. “We spent an evening together and basically made a deal to meet every Friday after I’m done with work.”

Missandei keeps looking at her, her analytic stare fixed on her as if she is considering her words and – oh, Gods know what she's thinking; from the way she presses her lips together, Dany can tell she’s trying hard not to grin at the news. 

“What?” Dany snaps when she doesn’t get a response. 

“Nothing,” Missandei says. “You seem to like him quite a lot, though.”

“I just told you I know nothing about him,” Dany replies defensively. She hasn’t  _ liked  _ someone in such a long time that having her best friend assuming she’s into a boy makes her cringe, scares her, almost.

“Yet, only the thought of seeing him again tonight makes you smile,” Missandei points out, calmly. “I haven’t seen you smile about someone in… well, ever, actually.” 

The usual retort would be that she’s not a smiley person whatsoever, but that wouldn’t work with her best friend. For how true that might be, Dany had found it almost impossible not to smile when Missandei is around. She also knows she does smile quite a lot when at work, her love for the animals overcoming any annoyance towards some obnoxious customer. Even Tyrion, despite the incessant sarcasm and his questionable manners, has become like a father figure to her, overprotective as he is when it comes to her health. 

The reality of the fact hits her in a flood of conscience, causing her shoulder to sag with a sigh; she feels just as comfortable with Jon as with all the closest people in her life. 

“Yeah, I know,” Dany finally admits, biting her lip and glancing away. 

A wary smile appears on Missandei’s face, but she tries to hide it with a cough, and to Dany’s relief, she changes the topic, gossiping about her customers at the library and the upcoming books. 

They chat lightly for a while. Checking the clock, Dany realizes her break’s almost over so she quickly finishes her meal and grabs her coat, ready to head back to the shop. 

“Hey, hold on,” Missandei calls to her when she stands up to leave. “This Sunday’s my birthday, I almost forgot to tell you. I’m having a small party at my place, will you come?” 

“Sure thing!” Dany replies cheerfully. “See you on Sunday then. Gotta rush back to the shop now, sorry.”

“Go, don’t worry! See ya soon.” 

She gives Missandei the cash to pay for her lunch and starts walking back to work in a hurry. If she gets in late again, it’ll be the day Tyrion finally fulfills his most frequent promise to feed her to lions That man has truly a creepy obsession with lions. 

Sweaty despite the cold air, surprisingly enough Dany arrives in time in front of the shop, keys in one hand and her phone in the other, as she automatically swipes right to a cute guy on tinder; multitasking is a gift from birth. 

She has just inserted the keys to open the door, and the knob gives at the pressure when suddenly a tight grip takes hold of her wrist as something violently pulls her back. 

Or someone. 

“Viserys?” she hisses in surprise, wriggling her arm from his grasp. “What are you doing here?” 

Her brother forces her to turn around and faces her, a glacial look depicted in his violet eyes, so similar to hers yet so much colder. He doesn’t speak at first, silent as his face gradually contorts into an impossibly harsher expression that makes her shiver from fear, even if she stopped being scared of him a long time ago. 

She hates the way he looks at her all the time – like she wasn’t supposed to be there. But how can she explain to him how she did  _ not  _ choose to survive? 

“You didn’t come to therapy yesterday,” he snaps, his voice deadly low. “ _ Again. _ ”

“Yeah Vis, I know. Look, I just–“

“No, don’t you even start. I’m so bloody tired of your excuses, Daenerys,” he interjects.

“Seven hells, it’s Dany!” But she realizes it’s not the right time for correcting when she spots the fire in her brother’s eyes at her reply. 

“I don’t fucking  _ care!”  _ Viserys shouts, his hand still circling her wrist. It doesn’t hurt her; it’s just a reminder that if he wanted to, he could _.  _ “I signed up to do these therapy sessions every single month because  _ you  _ needed it the most, and now you just stop coming?”

“Oh! Because losing our whole family is  _ my  _ trauma now!” Her tone has started to raise too, rage setting her chest on fire with every word he spits. That’s why she avoids talking with him in the first place – Viserys always makes her feel like a burden in his life, rather than the only family member he has left. 

“It’s not what I mean, and you know it.” He finally frees her hand, even though his stare remains fixed on her, severe and  _ angry,  _ always angry. “I wasn’t in the bloody fire; I didn’t nearly die.”

“ _ So _ good to be reminded every day, Vis,” Dany deadpans with a grimace. She hopes her sharp tone is enough to cover the trembling in her voice. “Punctual like my pill’s alarm.” 

“Save the sarcasm,” he cuts her off. “I’m doing this for  _ you.  _ If next time you won’t show up at therapy, you’re out of home.” 

“What?!” she yells. This time she spots a few people turning around to watch them in the street, but she ignores them. “You can’t do that!”

“You should know me better by now, little sister.” A grin spreads across his face, the usual victorious expression he’s worn every time since they were children when he bests her at something, anything. “Either always together, or never.”

It should be a sweet thing to say, but he makes it sound like a threat.

Dany doesn’t even know why he cares so much about her going to the therapist– if he wants her to go for her own benefit or just because he’s too vulnerable to open up to a professional alone. 

“Right,” she says, her hands now clenched into fists to stop them from shaking. Dany looks up at her brother, his face impassible as he glances back at her rigidly; she sees confusion in his eyes, as if he didn’t know himself how to feel about her. “I just wish I had a say in the matter, for once.” 

An imperceptible twitch of his lips, the slightest shade of hurt in his look at her words, makes her think,  _ hope _ even, that after all, he might care.

He’s just half as strong as her and twice as broken. 

Yet as they exchange one last sad look, and she turns her back on him to open the store’s door, all she can think about is how suffocated she feels by the others’ decisions about her own life.

The door has just slammed behind her when Dany notices Tyrion standing right in front of her, imposing despite his stature, and staring at her with a mix of sorrow and worry in his eyes that already gives her a hint towards his intentions. 

An exasperated sigh escapes her lips. “Gods, I need to dig a tunnel to get here.” 

“I hate to say this, but your brother’s right,” her boss says, ignoring her. “You need to take better care of yourself. He surely didn’t say it in the best way possible but–“

She tilts her head, a scolding look already directed at him. “Have you been eavesdropping?” 

“Well, you two were kind of yelling at each other,” Tyrion replies defensively.

“Well, and this is kind of none of your business,” Dany snaps, almost regretting the harsh tone when she sees the pain in Tyrion’s eyes. 

“I  _ worry  _ about you!” 

“And I thank you for that, but it’s not as easy as it sounds, okay? I  _ hate  _ going to therapy, and I hate having to talk about my past over and over again when the thing I want the most in my life is to forget it all!” Dany tells him, feeling the frustration growing inside her from trying so hard to make him understand. Her breathing quickens, struggling to hold back the rage and panic she has trained herself to hide for a year now, but  _ gods  _ they’re making it  _ so  _ hard. She only wants to forget, to erase every single memory of that damned night. 

At the change of her tone, Tyrion suddenly steps forward to her side, his expression softening with his voice. “Hey... easy, easy,” he whispers to her, as he slowly places one hand on her arm in reassurance. She hadn’t realized it was trembling. “Calm down, kid. I know it’s hard to open up, okay? I know, but those doctors… they’re there to help you. Forgetting won’t erase that huge burden you have to carry all the time, it will only mask it for a while,” Tyrion tells her, his blue eyes honest while comforting her. “If you don’t want to talk about the past, it’s okay. But you need to tell someone how you feel. Someone who could really help you ease the pain for good, you understand?” 

Hypnotized by his words, Dany finally swallows down the lump in her throat and nods. 

As Tyrion gives one last squeeze to her arm, flashing her a reassuring smile before taking back his position behind the register, her mind inevitably travels to Jon, his warm touches, the comfort that he creates around her by just  _ talking,  _ and his small smiles that always reach his eyes and make her own sparkle with hope. 

She’s never felt the usual crashing burden in her chest with him. Dany has gotten so used to being overwhelmed by her own fears all the time, that the moment she was freed of such negativity, even for only a night, she didn’t even have the time to process how  _ good  _ it felt. 

The prospect of feeling that way again in a few hours is enough to psych herself up to go back to work, with her heart filled with excitement and her chest swelling every now and then in anticipation. 

The evening doesn’t proceed better than how the morning started. Right before closing time, in rapid succession, Dany has to deal first with a fancy couple who can’t pick an even fancier sweater for their own dog by themselves, and after them, a stubborn middle-aged man in a black suit, who came to purchase a  _ monkey _ , only to leave the shop past 19 p.m. muttering offenses after Dany recited all the law articles that forbid pet shops from selling exotic animals to him. 

The grumpy client slams the door so hard behind him that it bounces off the frame at the impact, leaving it ajar. 

And then there he is.

She feels the muscles of her face relax instinctively at the sight of him, his figure standing hesitantly on the threshold, even if he should be the last one to be hesitant around her, out of everyone. 

“I’ll wait for you outside?” Jon asks, smiling shyly.

Dany expels her breath in a whoosh, realizing that she had been holding it since she spotted him. 

She nods, smiling back, almost desperately.

“Yes, please.”

* * *

“You eat a lot for bein’ so tiny,” Jon states, taking a seat beside her on a bench outside of Ramsey’s. The new local fast food couldn’t even afford some proper tables, goddammit. 

He watches her unfold her cheeseburger, but nothing in his tone sounds judgmental towards her, only genuinely surprised, which makes Dany hold back a grin. 

She huffs a laugh, dismissing his statement with a gesture of her hand. “I stopped caring about diets a long time ago.”

“Oh really?” Jon’s brows arc in curiosity. “Why?”

She looks up at him, a mischievous grin pulls at her lips as she catches his eyes, grey and shiny even in the dark light of the evening. 

She gets lost in his deep look for a while, and before she has the time to think it through, she goes, “I learned at a very young age that I gain pounds  _ just  _ in the right parts of my body.”

If she had thought of regretting her answer the moment it came out, the expression on Jon’s face as she stated so changes her mind immediately. 

Even under the feeble illumination of the streetlights, Dany sees his cheeks turn slightly red at her words, and his gaze dips inevitably to her bosom for a sweet second, only to go back to her face with wider, darker eyes. 

She slowly looks away, trying to hide the satisfied smile by taking another bite of her burger. 

He coughs a bit, regaining composure and looking away as well. “Well, you should avoid junk food anyway.”

“Oh, stop mommying me,” Dany whines, rolling her eyes. “I’ve already got my brother for that.”

“‘M not mommyin’ you!” he replies defensively, visibly amused at the same time. “That stuff’s not good for your health.”

Dany huffs as a reflex, and mutters, “Like I care.”

She survived a fire; a burger has  _ nothing  _ on her. 

Dany thinks about saying that, facing him with a smirk already on her face, ready with the upcoming joke, but the words die in her throat the moment she notices the rigid expression he wears. 

The scolding look on his face hints that a retort is about to come at her reply, so Dany interjects him and, taking one last bite, she quickly stands up and glances at Jon expectantly, waiting for him to follow her. 

He pauses for a second, eyeing her. 

There’s a sort of awareness in his eyes, as if he  _ knows _ her pain. As if he understands her. The feeling leaves her bare and vulnerable under his look, but for the first time in her life, she doesn’t try to hide from it.

Then Jon slowly stands up, eyes locked on her as he does so, and with one of his small smiles pulling at his lips, he takes her hand in his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the second secret,” he says, and the smile now reaches his eyes too, making her heart pound for a moment. 

Her fingers close around his hand, squeezing it a little as if to give him permission to lead her whenever he wants. Her thumb brushes his skin, just the way he did the week before to her, and silently tells him that, somehow, she trusts him.

So he takes the first step, then another one, and she follows him. 

* * *

All these Winterfell’s Secrets Weekly Tours she  _ willingly  _ decided to sign up for turn out to be quite a peculiar thing. 

As if the concept of meeting someone on the same day of the week at the same hour isn’t weird enough, per se, it becomes even stranger when she finds out that Jon, the guy who  _ willingly  _ asked her so insistently to go out for a walk around the city, happens to get tremendously anxious in crowds.

Dany realizes it almost immediately when they cross the main square together, feeling his palm grow wet with cold sweat against hers as they make their way among the people rushing everywhere in the usual chaos of Friday nights. It hadn’t been a problem the previous week, since to get to the small bridge they had to walk in the opposite direction of the center, out of the city’s walls where the density of people is way lower than downtown, and the area definitively quieter. 

He doesn’t talk much the entire stroll across the center. Only once they reach streets farther off and the crowd starts fading, Dany sees his shoulders finally relax, the anxiety slowly leaving his body as they get closer to the walls. 

His hand loosens a bit in hers, and despite his attempts to hide it from her, she hears him sigh in relief.

“Is everything okay?” Dany asks, her free hand touching his shoulder apprehensively to check him out. 

“Aye.” Jon looks at her, his grey eyes holding an apology already. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be antisocial, I just don’t like–“

“Crowds,” Dany concludes, smiling to comfort him. “I figured.”

“You’re familiar with that?” he asks, now curious rather than upset.

“Kind of.” Large groups of people never really gave her problems, but panic attacks are for sure one of the main topics of her sessions. “Let me guess. Social anxiety?”

“Aye.”

“Insomniac?”

“Mostly.”

“PTSD?”

“What?” Jon’s brow furrows.

Dany rolls her eyes. “You’ve got trauma.”

“Oh, yeah definitely.”

“Then welcome to the club, darling.” 

He chuckles, soon joined by her own laugh as he raises a hand ready for a high five, his smile quickly replaced by a playful grin. Dany claps his hand, still laughing, but then instead of withdrawing her hand their fingers slowly tangle together, and neither of them dare to break the contact with the other. 

Dany hadn’t put gloves on this time, and she would be lying if she said the desire of feeling his skin against hers had nothing to do with it. For science, of course. 

As he tightens the grip and smiles fondly at her, his warmth pooling all over her body at once, Dany thinks he’s the best experiment she’s ever tried in her whole life.

They stare at each other in silence for a while, a relaxed smile on both their faces as they take each other in. She might be exaggerating to define her feeling as fondness, but Dany is not sure of what else it would be. She feels at  _ peace _ around Jon. Serenity is a luxury she thought she had given up a long time ago, and now, for the first time, she has  _ hope _ that she might get it back.

“We've arrived, by the way,” Jon says softly, and she realizes just now that, in fact, they have stopped walking. 

Jon’s voice suddenly brings her back to reality and makes her turn around out of curiosity, taking her time to scan their surroundings. They’re standing on an empty road; on one side, the ancient houses of the city made of grey brick cast shadows on them, lit up by the iron lanterns on their walls. On the other side instead stand the city walls, high and imposing as if their hundreds of years haven’t made them age a bit, blocking their way with a barrier of rocks and a tower erected in between. Dany gets closer to it, studying the highest building in the center, but mostly as a weak attempt to hide her disappointment from Jon’s eyes. 

“The keep?” she asks, and from the way the question comes out, she fails miserably. “This is the second secret?” 

“Give me just a second to recover from your enthusiasm.” Jon puts his hands on his hips as if he was reproaching a five year old girl instead of a grown-up woman— who, by the way, is now  _ incredibly  _ turned on by his reaction. Still in his scolding position, Jon’s coat has fallen open behind him, only to reveal the tight black shirt he wears underneath, shaping to his torso so well that she finds herself wondering about his abs instead of listening to his answer. 

He finishes talking and all she hears is a buzz, a far echo of his voice despite the closeness and the almost total absence of people around them. She has to blink several times to focus back on his words, shaking her head in order to remove all the uthopic scenarios she had just pictured in her mind. Those would  _ definitely  _ make her enthusiastic. 

“Excuse me, what?” Dany asks, her attention drawn back to his face. 

“It’s the keep’s  _ door _ , actually,” he repeats. “What were you thinkin’ about?” Jon then asks with narrowed eyes as he approaches her, his hand slipping to her lower back, a silent invitation to follow him. 

“Iguanas,” she lies.

Jon’s expression contorts in amusement, huffing a laugh. “You work too much.” 

“Right?” She walks away, to study the tower’s door, mostly because she’s curious, but also to hide her embarrassment under Jon’s careful eyes. “Jon, this door looks pretty regular to me,” she then says with a pout. 

He smiles fondly at her, her heart reacting and at once increasing its speed, and without saying a word Jon’s hand tangles with hers, pulling her behind him as he starts moving along the cylindrical base. 

“That one is,” he says, still walking; he finally stops as he reaches the corner that joins the wall and the keep, where small stairs have been carved out of the rock, leading somewhere up the side of the keep. The spot is so dark and hidden that it’s almost impossible to notice the stairs from the street, unless one already knows of their existence. Dany can’t help but think what a great place that’d be to murder someone.

By her side, Jon squeezes her hand and points at the top of the steps with his free hand. “ _ That  _ door.” 

“Oh.”

He grins, climbing the first step and offering her his hand again. “Shall we?”

She doesn’t think twice and lets her palm slide back into his. 

They start climbing together and Dany realizes that, for how solid those stairs might be, the bad weather of the North makes them slippery under her feet, and it surely doesn’t help that there is no railing to use as support, a choice that she finds  _ so  _ dumb from the Northern people, considering their region was literally named after the coldest season of the year. 

“Okay, one last step.” Jon helps her reach the small balcony, his hands on her waist to keep her still, and Dany has to gather up all her brain cells not to give in to the intimacy of that feeling, his solid arms steadying her as a support. 

She climbs the final step and finds herself face to face with Jon, closer than she’s ever been to him before, and if it wasn’t for the sound of the bells announcing it’s 8 p.m., Dany would’ve lost track of time just staring at him. 

Then his hands fall down from her waist, and the absence of contact brings her back to reality. 

She coughs, stepping away to scan the little balcony, feeling Jon’s eyes on her figure with every move she makes, but she tries to ignore it. 

Right in front of her, in the dim light of the lonely lantern stuck to the wall, she spots an ancient iron door. It’s so different from the one below at the base of the keep, with its bluish shade matching the North’s soul so perfectly and a frame of brick around it – they don’t even look like part of the same old building. 

Then she looks around and her breath gets caught in her throat.

With her mouth gaping, Dany admires the incredible panoramic view before them, the city lights standing out in the dark to create the most beautiful sight she’s ever witnessed. 

“You’re not gonna murder me,” she whispers to herself, realizing too late that she did say that out loud.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head and turns around to face him. “It’s… It’s really amazing up here.”

He beams at her, taking one step closer. “It is.” His eyes find hers, his voice slightly lower. “But that’s not the second secret. Come ‘ere.”

With a hand on her arm, Jon gently pulls her beside him, in front of the keep’s door. Standing so close to it, Dany now spots the wide tri-lined gash carved in the iron, crossing a large part of the door.

“This scratch?” Dany asks, a little disappointed.

“Aye,” he says. “There’s a legend about it.”

She looks at him expectantly, the question already held in her eyes.

He smiles at her. “The story says that, at the start of time, the North was not a cold place at all; in fact, the weather was mild all the year and the city never saw a snowflake in its history,” Jon starts, and as he keeps narrating they both sit on the edge of the balcony, their shoulders brushing comfortably. “It was a flourishin’ age for the North until a new King took the throne. The new ruler was an evil man, cruel and lackin’ of compassion for his people, as well as love for any woman. He never showed up durin’ the day, preferrin’ the dark hours instead, and he refused to marry whatever suitor was introduced to him. Because of his habits and cold manners, they called him the Night King.”

“You guys are  _ so _ original,” she interjects with a grin.

“Oh please, your ancestors made up names by mixin’ up the same four syllables!” 

“Call it a skill.”

He laughs, giving her a soft push on her arm. “Anyways,” Jon continues, still smiling, “the story says that the Night King’s influence on the city was so powerful that it made the region gradually sink into the strongest winter the country had ever seen; the snow became never ending and the days shorter, and soon the people started gatherin’ around to set up a rebellion against the tyrant. They managed to trap him and lock him here in this tower, bein’ the highest in the town. They threw away the keys and sealed the door, but before they were able to do that, the Night King shouted a curse and sentenced the North to a permanent winter.” Jon looks away from her and points at the door with a nod. “That’s said to be the King’s mark in his attempt to break free of the citizens’ grasp when they locked him in.” 

“ _ Or  _ someone played with a stick a little too wildly and ruined the door,” Dany suggests quietly with a skeptic tone. 

“It has three lines,” Jon points out.

“They played with a fork?”

He cackles. “You don’t like myths, do you?”

Dany sighs, smiling at him and scooting a little closer. “It’s not that I don’t like them, I just… I’m a pretty realistic person, you know? I don’t believe in legends or myths without proof.”

“That gash is one.”

“So is climate change.” She shrugs.

“Fair point,” he says, looking down.

Dany looks at him, his stare lost in the darkness of the city as the houses’ lights create constellations underneath the sky, and she suddenly feels guilty for her bluntness and lack of tact. After a year spent in Winterfell, she knows by now that the people here are strong believers and deeply care about their origins and history, even when those involve stories like this one. 

She presses her lips together and with a surge of fondness, Dany grabs his hand in his lap and squeezes it, letting her thumb caress his rough skin. His gaze shifts from the city to her eyes in a matter of seconds.

“I’m sorry,” she says, earnest as she looks in his grey eyes. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful towards your traditions. I love these stories, I really do. I just tend to take them for what they are… stories, nothing more. But that’s just me, and it’s not right to discredit others for believing in something.”

A slow, endearing smile pulls at his lips at once. His hand moves in hers, his fingers making their way between hers. “Thank you, Dany.”

“Although,” she goes on, her voice quieter now as she observes their hands tangled on his thigh. “I do believe in some legends.”

“You do?”

She nods. “You know, they say Dragonstone was named like that because it was the land of dragons. They lived with the people in harmony, until they decided they were too dangerous and could turn out to be a menace for the island, so the beasts were imprisoned in the temples, and there extinguished,” Dany tells him. 

He pauses for a while, looking at her intensely as if studying her. Then he smiles, and says, “So you’d rather believe in dragons than in a dark king?”

She smiles as well, feeling her whole face softening, her head tilting to one side while staring at him. “Dragons are prettier.” 

He bursts into laughter and his hand tightens around hers. “Aye, they are.”

The usual warmth spreads inside her from sitting next to him, the sense of ease fills her chest, making her heart swell as she inhales the cold air of the night and her eyes get lost in the view in front of them. Even with the black sky above, Winterfell seems to glow in the darkness, with the yellow lights emanated by the lanterns and the houses of those still awake, reflecting in the soft layer of snow covering every surface like a shiny blanket. 

It’s all so different from home here, but thanks to Jon, now she doesn’t see it as a bad thing as she used to. She feels nostalgic, of course, but not sad.

In silence they keep staring at the view, watching everything gradually fade in front of them as the houses’ lights turn off, the noises becoming quieter and the colors being absorbed by the night. They sit side by side on the border for a while, gazing at the streets’ illumination slowly giving way to the natural shine of the stars.

Jon holds a serious expression in his gaze, Dany notices, his grey eyes sparkling from the reflections, pensive and awake while taking the city in. He looks so good and comfortable in the night, as if he belongs with it and doesn’t mind adjusting his whole body to the darkness in the sweetest way possible. He’s a beautiful paradox – the brightest shadow ever seen. 

After a long pause, he breaks the silence. 

“Shall we go down?” Jon asks with a smile, and Dany doesn’t even care that he catches her staring at him as he turns around to face her. 

“Aye, alright,” she says with a grin, making his impression.

“‘Kay, let’s go.” He heads towards the stairs, before suddenly turning around with an admonishing finger pointed at her, and a playful grin reflecting hers. “And  _ don’t _ mock my accent, you southern lady.” 

Dany represses a laugh, her eyes wet from the attempt and lips pressed together. “Sure,” she says, following him down. “‘M never doin’ it again.”

A few minutes later they arrive in front of the main entrance of the keep, where they had been standing no more than a couple of hours before, but with a different shade of blue above them, and a different kind of sparkle in their eyes. If when they got there first she had been excited to find out about the next secret, now all she sees is the image of Jon’s hand twined with hers, Jon’s shining eyes while telling her stories, the way he smiles and looks at her as if he’d been doing it for years, instead of weeks. 

Without even asking this time, Jon places a hand on her lower back to walk her back to the city center, a knowing smile forming on his lips at the silent offer. 

“You don’t have an accent?” he asks curiously while they walk. 

“Uhm, not really,” she says. “But we’re actually bilingual on Dragonstone. We speak both the Common Tongue and High Valyrian.”

“Really? That’s so impressive.” His eyes widen with admiration.

“Thanks.” Dany smiles at his astonishment. “Although my brother is definitely more fluent than me since he’s older and could practice the language more when we lived on Dragonstone.” 

“You don’t speak Valyrian to each other?”

Dany looks away. “Well, we hardly speak at all now, actually.” She swallows, eyes fixed on the central square in front of them, now practically empty in comparison to how it was when they had crossed it earlier. “But when we do speak it’s usually a mix,” she concludes.

There’s a brief pause where they don’t say a word, the city lulling their silence with its own and a vague echo of music every now and then, coming from a distant house. 

She feels Jon’s eyes on her as they keep walking, constantly checking her out, the hand on her back moving slightly to comfort her, and against all her expectations, even such a small gesture manages to ease her sadness a little bit. 

“You two don’t get along, do you?” he asks tentatively.

“No,” she admits. “We used to, though. But after the accident…” she trails off, her thoughts cutting her own words off, afraid that she might’ve said too much. She’s not ready to tell someone about her trauma, not yet. She’s not ready to let someone see her as vulnerable and soft. 

From the way Jon is looking at her now, the sympathy and genuine worry in his eyes warming her up, she thinks a part of him knows it all already, though. 

“Anyways… it changed – our bond,” she explains, avoiding Jon’s deep look on her. “We’re not that close anymore.”

“Did this accident involve him, too?” 

Dany doesn’t know how to answer without giving too much away. She grimaces, pausing to think about the right words, then finally replies, “The… _ consequences  _ of it, yes. They did affect him.”

“You know, I don’t know your brother, but whatever this accident is about, I think you should give him a chance…” He takes her elbow, softly turning her around to face him. His eyes are glowing in the moonlight, his cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, making him look even cuter, if possible. “I know what it feels like to be the big brother, especially when your little sister is a fierce, beautiful woman like you are,” he tells her, and now she’s sure her cheeks have become the same shade as his. “Whatever happened to you, I’m sure he now feels responsible for you… doesn’t want you to be in danger anymore. Maybe he’s showin’ it in the wrong way, or maybe he’s bein’ overprotective and you might hate it but… I think he’s just, like, scared shitless of losin’ you.” 

Of all the things she likes about Jon, Dany thinks, her favorite must be his ability to leave her speechless. She’s used to having a ready answer for everything, and yet his bluntness strikes her to the core and takes her breath away, mesmerized by words that now sound so obvious to her ears, despite never having heard them from anyone else before. 

He always goes straight to the point, but in the softest way possible, which is again part of the beautiful mystery that is Jon Snow. 

“Oh,” Dany finally says, so quietly that if they weren’t facing each other she knows he would barely hear her. She gives him a sad, endearing smile. “A year of therapy, and this is new.”

Jon chuckles, stepping closer to her to place a hand on her arm, his warmth flooding her senses all at once. 

“Don’t worry,” he says with a smug smile on his face. “The first session is on me.”

At that, Dany pushes him hard on the shoulder and turns around to continue the walk, unable to hold back a laugh as she catches Jon’s own grin through the corner of her eye.

Moments later, after they wish each other goodnight at the bus stop, the ghost of laughter still lingers on her lips all the way back home until she reaches her apartment, where she finds Viserys asleep on the couch, the TV still on and playing the ending of a random movie. 

She watches her older brother with a certain curiosity, looking so peaceful in the feeble light of the living room. Dany can’t remember the last time she saw his face so relaxed, so calm and free of any responsibility. 

The thought brings Jon’s words back in her mind; a sudden wave of affection towards her brother makes room in her chest, and the sentiment is so unexpected, so  _ old  _ and renewed at the same time, that she is taken aback for a moment. 

A sigh escapes her lips, from weariness or relief she doesn’t know. Dany takes off her shoes, careful not to make a sound, before tiptoeing to the couch and gently placing a blanket over Viserys’s body, who reacts with a sleepy groan that makes a small smile appear on her mouth.

Even later at night, when she sinks into the mattress and her eyelids close almost immediately from exhaustion, the smile never fades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ronsweasley on tumblr! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you liked the chapter xx


	3. Weirwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon stands in front of her, his small smile soon fading, leaving his lips slightly parted in confusion as he stares at her quizzically, and all she feels is relief. Not fear, nor anxiety of messing up for the umpteenth time. Just pure, genuine relief, as if his presence is an invitation to finally relax.  
> Judging by his expression she must have been speechless for quite a long time by now, but she can’t help it. Her heart is hammering in her chest, whether from surprise or something else she doesn’t know, and even without checking she knows her knuckles on the door must’ve turned white now from resisting the urge to jump into Jon’s arms.  
> When she finally speaks, her voice is so quiet she can barely hear her own words.  
> “It’s not Friday.” It’s all she can bloody say, right before mentally cursing at herself.  
> Jon’s mouth turns into a smile, his brows arching in fake disillusion. “‘M not gonna lie, I was kind of expectin’ another reaction.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spongebob: YAY let's make a multichapter!11  
> Captain: *five months later*
> 
> Hey, it's me Giulia. I'm very very really sorry for this huge gap between chapter 2 and 3. I have been incredibly busy with life, and being abroad during the quarantine didn't really help the development of the fic. I hope, though, that with this chapter I made up a bit.
> 
> Thank you as always to my amazing friends and betas, Sabrina and Fer, who are just the best at this and help me get through my writer's blocks just fine. ily pals.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, folks. Please leave a comment if you like it xx

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/146793737@N07/50056398647/in/dateposted-public/)

Given her odds, Dany had gotten to a point in her life when she could literally  _ smell  _ the upcoming troubles, like a sort of intuition, only more concrete and frustrating. There are no logical ways to explain that sensation, she just… knows. She feels it in the air. 

That morning is no exception, although this time, while on the bus on her way to work, she soon realizes that the stink she smells now is anything but figurative. The faces of the people around her start gradually forming grimaces of disgust, the same one she knows she’s wearing too, as the piercing odor of burnt gasoline comes through the windows and the bus stops abruptly. 

A curse escapes her lips at once, and Dany hadn’t realized how loud it was until a couple of people in front of her turn around and flash her a scolding look that she pretends to ignore. 

She just  _ can’t  _ be late today. Tyrion had been flexible enough to concede her an hour off that morning so that she was able to go to therapy with Viserys, knowing that with all the times she had ditched the sessions in the past, she couldn’t really have a say in the matter regarding the date. Without inconveniences, the schedule was strict, but not hard to follow: at 9 a.m. she and her brother had to meet with the therapist; a regular session lasts approximately an hour and a half, so that at 11 a.m. sharp she would’ve gotten to the store. 

But honestly, when has her life ever lacked inconveniences?

So, as if waking up at dawn, then having your traumas displayed and analyzed early in the morning, all of that with the minimum amount of caffeine in your blood for medical reasons – or so they say – wasn’t tough enough, Dany now finds herself running across the city to reach the pet shop in time. 

Of all the times she had thought about her death – and oh, weren’t there a bunch– being a feast for lions was never really an option. Despite the irony, Tyrion’s threat keeps echoing in her head all the way to the store. 

Sweating from head to toes despite the cold, she arrives at the shop a few minutes past 11 a.m., which won’t spare her a reproach for sure, or only a sharp look maybe if she’s fast enough to explain herself. 

But the moment she swings the door open, her eyes landing inevitably on the spot in front of the door where Tyrion usually waits for her with his arms crossed and furrowed brow, she doesn’t find anyone standing in front of her. Lifting her eyes, she finds her boss behind the desk of the shop instead, silent as he looks up at her with deadly seriousness. His look is so different from his usual scolding expression, so much more intense and  _ grave,  _ that for the first time Dany remains speechless in front of him. 

There’s no trace of humor on his face this time, not even a glint of softness in his dark blue eyes, and that’s what scares her the most. 

“I, uhm… I’m sorry I’m late,” she starts, carefully approaching him. “The bus had a breakdown and–” 

“I don’t care, “ Tyrion interrupts her. He climbs down from his chair and walks across the shop towards her. As he does, and stops in front of her, Dany notices just how weirdly empty the store is; it’s so unusual, especially on Mondays. 

“I opened the shop to the public ten minutes before you got here,” her boss snaps in a harsh tone as if he had just read her mind. 

“Why?” Dany dares to ask, her voice now reduced to a whisper from fear. Looking at Tyrion’s eyes, and judging by his tone, she’s afraid she’s not going to like his answer. 

He’s only a few steps away from her by now, glaring at her with a fury she rarely sees on him. Despite his short stature, Dany has never felt smaller in her life. 

“You forgot to feed the pets and clean the cages on Friday night before you left,” he snaps. 

“No I didn’t, I–” But her retort dies in her throat, unable to add more as her mind travels back to the chaotic afternoon that was last Friday, the obnoxious clients she had to deal with during the very last hours, and on top of everything, the constant feeling of childish excitement that had filled her the whole day, in anticipation of her date with Jon. 

She had been so distracted she had neglected her job, too carried away she had been irresponsible beyond measure. 

“Right,” he says when he catches the spark of realization in her eyes. 

Suddenly she feels like drowning. “Tyrion, I’m so, so sorry…” 

“I hired you because you were responsible and  _ so  _ passionate about this,” he starts, and at his words Dany’s stomach clenches. “Even with so little previous experience, you were amazing at your job, because you  _ cared.  _ But now?” Tyrion looks up at her as if he was trying to find the right words in her own eyes, and suddenly the floor becomes so much more interesting in her attempt to avoid his gaze. 

She hears him sigh. “Now it seems like you don’t care anymore.” And there’s so much pain in his voice that each of his words come straight to her heart and pierces her chest like bullets. She wants to apologize again and again, but Dany knows that the moment her mouth opens, a stream of tears will follow right away, the lump in her throat now physically hurting. 

Tyrion points at the shop’s entrance with a nod. “I had to open the store one hour later to catch up on the work you didn’t do, but that’s not even the point,” he continues, rubbing his face nervously with one hand before putting it back into his pocket. “These are all pets that can go a couple of days without food; that’s not the problem. The problem is that you… you’re not doing this  _ right _ anymore, Dany.”

“I’m sorry,” she hears herself saying again, her voice shaking, struggling to hold back her tears. 

Her boss nods, his spine relaxing a bit although his eyes remain glacial as they lock with hers, severe. “I know what you’ve been going through, but you need to pull yourself together. You can’t keep going on like this,” he tells her. Dany nods vigorously, almost desperate to feel comprehended. 

“In the back room there’s the trash I didn’t have the time to throw out earlier. You take care of it today when you finish.” 

“Okay.”

Then he turns around and goes back to the desk, where his papers are waiting. 

“So, am I still working here?” Dany manages to ask after a pause, slightly louder but insecure at the same time.

Tyrion throws her a glance, not even bothering to lift his head up, before focusing back on the documents. The bell of the shop rings behind her, announcing the entrance of the first client of the day, but Dany barely hears it with the incessant pounding of her heart hammering in her ears. 

It calms down only when Tyrion speaks. 

“Don’t make me regret it.” 

Dany turns around and approaches the new customer with a smile. 

* * *

“Yeah, this should work,” Dany says, more to herself than to the lady following her around the shop. She checks the phone’s screen the woman is holding up for her one last time, showing a tiny sea turtle in someone’s hand – most likely her owner’s, considering the well-finished manicure – and on her tiptoes, she finally grabs a small grey bottle from a shelf.

“This is a silver sulfadiazine cream,” she explains to the customer. “The shell’s rot is not severe judging by the pic, so you might need to apply this on it once or twice a day only. It’s also important to maintain a regular cleaning with betadine and water to remove the dead areas of the shell.” 

“Thank you so much.” The lady takes the lotion and smiles at her. “You spared me 50 dollars of vet’s visit.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Dany smiles back. She quickly checks the room and spots Tyrion at the other side of the store, assisting a couple. “Actually, would you mind saying it louder?” she offers then with a sly smile. 

The woman’s expression shifts in record time, her eyes now narrowed in confusion, and after muttering a final “thank you” she pays for the cream and rushes out of the shop. 

Dany mumbles an offense the moment the door closes behind the lady, but apparently, the words come out loud enough to be heard by her boss, who suddenly gives her a glare from his spot. 

“ _ Rich,”  _ Dany corrects herself, catching his scold with her eyes wide in terror. “That woman must be  _ so  _ rich since she just purchased a 35 dollar cream for her turtle. You’re welcome.” She winks at Tyrion with a grin, and Dany can swear she had glimpsed a hint of a smile on his lips, before turning his back again.

When the bell rings again, for the first time that day the smile that spreads across her face is not one of politeness. 

“Missandei!” She greets her friend, beaming. Passing around the desk, Dany meets her halfway in the shop. “You didn’t come to lunch.”

Missandei smiles back at her, but to Dany’s surprise, she notices her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m starting my break now, actually.”

“Oh,” Dany says, confused but mostly disoriented by Missandei’s strange tone. Her friend’s always been calm-tempered, but right now she just feels… detached, which causes a knot of worry to form in her stomach at once. “How so?”

“My boss conceded me a half morning off as a birthday present.” She stares at her, her expression unreadable as her smile fades for good. “It was very nice of her.”

And then it clicks. Dany’s heart misses a beat, her chest tightening from sorrow. 

The birthday party. 

Last night was Missandei’s birthday party and she totally forgot. 

“Yesterday was–” 

“Yes, it was,” Missandei interjects, and now she doesn’t even try to look content. There’s so much disappointment in her best friend’s look, such a sadness, that Dany almost wishes she had raged instead.

But Missandei’s never been the loud one; if Dany was chaos Missandei always helped her find the peace, if she screamed her friend was ready to take her hand and calm her down. 

And she forgot about her birthday. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so _so_ sorry.” Dany can’t honestly remember a day where she apologized so many times within so few hours – or at least one when she actually _meant_ all the apologies.

At this point, she’d better be hanging a sign around her neck with those words printed on it if the day was going to proceed this way. 

“I didn’t mean to… I got caught in staff…” Dany trails off, but Missandei’s expression remains impassible, unaffected by her words.

“You could’ve warned me.”

“I know.”

“I waited for you all night.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Seven hells, it doesn’t matter how many times she says it, or how pleading it might sound, that heavy burden inside her chest just won’t go away yet.

“You know,” Missandei starts after a pause. “I like having lunch breaks together and stuff. Chatting about boys, and clients and weather… that’s something I can do with pretty much everyone,” she says, and the heaviness in her tone makes her feel small all of sudden. “I knew you at your worst without ever expecting to see your best, ‘cause I understand what you’ve been through. You know that I do.”

Dany nods, tears already forming in her eyes. Out of all people, she knows Missandei’s words are honest, since she had lost her parents too when she was a kid and then got adopted. Everyone always tells her they understand her, but no one has ever meant it as much as Missandei did. 

“But the way you act… I don’t know how to understand that anymore,” she finally says in a whisper, looking away from her, as if that sentence hurt her just as much. 

“Dei, can we talk about this at dinner tonight? Please?” Dany pleads. 

Missandei meets her eyes again and even without saying a word, the answer is clear in her look. “It’s not about the birthday, Dany. You need to care more,” she tells her, careful as she speaks, as if she was trying to explain things to a kid. “It seems like you’re taking everything for granted.” 

Oh. What a blow that is. 

Her first instinct is to push everything away, walk her friend out of the shop and tell her she will call, both of them aware that she won’t, like she would do with a random guy during a random night of sex; it’s certainly easier than facing the truth. And the truth is that Missandei is right. As is Tyrion. As is, to her dismay, her brother. 

So instead of shutting her out as she would normally do, Dany just looks down and nods slowly, surrendering. When she lifts her eyes and opens her mouth to reply, she’s abruptly interjected by the store’s door swinging open again, revealing a couple of customers making their way into the shop. 

With an apologetic, desperate look on her face, Dany’s eyes lock back onto Missandei’s with a plea. “I–” She gestures towards the clients. “I have to go.”

Missandei nods, understanding. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Dany shouts behind her before she crosses the entrance. “I promise.”

Missandei’s face softens. “Whenever you want.” She gives her a small smile that only partly eases the burden in her chest, then finally turns around and leaves.

The customers approach her but Dany interjects them in a hurry. “Just a sec, I’ll be right back to you.”

Before Tyrion can catch her, she reaches for a pen from the desk and quickly writes down a note on her hand, staining her skin with bright red ink.

_ “Call Missandei tonight.”  _

It’s not much, but it’s a start. 

* * *

By the time the sun had set the store has gradually emptied, which on normal days, under ordinary circumstances where she hasn’t driven mad two of the most important people in her life, including her boss, that would allow her to close the shop a few minutes earlier and leave in time to catch the bus at 19 o’clock. 

Of course, today isn’t the case. 

Tyrion had left the shop at six, making her promise for the third time that afternoon to stay until the back room was empty and cleaned. It was fair, she knows it. Dany doesn’t mind the extra hour of work, she just has a hard time being alone, which is hilarious considering how used to it she has become lately. Even worse are the moments before going to sleep – with no activity to keep her busy or people to talk to, her mind would travel to bad memories, her thoughts turning into self-accusations, and for how much she tries it’s all so difficult to avoid since it’s in her own head. 

As she starts tying the sacks in the back room Dany can’t help but rewind all the events of the day, from the nerve-wracking session with her brother to the fight with Tyrion and then with Missandei. 

She’s gotten the concept of a dark day from a very young age, yet sometimes it seems to her that the Gods are struggling way too much to refresh her memory. 

Maybe everyone’s right: she doesn’t care about anything. Can she be blamed? The thing she cared about the most in the world was her family and it was taken away from her. 

She does care about other people now, but sometimes it’s so hard, so  _ tiring,  _ to find the energy to show that. It’d be easier if they could just pop into her mind and see that themselves, spare her the work. 

_ See how much you all mean to me?  _ she would chant while watching them admire her repressed feelings.  _ Now that you got your proof just let me lie and cry in peace, you meddlers.  _

“Why don’t they get it,” she mumbled, crossing the room with a sack in her hand.

As she passes by the iguanas’ cage, she catches Drogon’s eyes wide on her, his small head slightly tilted to the side as he keeps staring at her as if confused by her own muttering. 

“Oh don’t give me that look,” she reproaches him, and for good measure Rhaegal and Viserion climb on the little rock inside the cage to join their brother, making three pairs of reptile’s eyes following her movements. “Stop judging me!” she shouts at them, and at the rise of her tone they back off a little, but still look at her, curious. 

Dany glances at them, amused by how creepy and adorable they can be at the same time. After a pause, she comes closer to brush their heads softly. “What would you know?” she asks quietly, knowing she won’t receive an answer. Maybe that’s why she likes to talk to her iguanas so much after all. “You don’t have to deal with people. Lucky you.”

For a moment everything is quiet. It’s just her and the animals, no one around. 

Then suddenly a knock at the door almost gives her a heart attack. 

“What the…”

She takes a few seconds to recover from the shock before, with her heart still pounding in her ears, Dany heads to the entrance and opens the door without even bothering to ask who it is. 

Which is a very risky move considering she’s alone, at night and quite small. 

And finally, the first joyful thing of the day happens at seven-thirty, when Jon Snow shows up.

After twelve hours into the most failure-filled day in her life, Dany’s afraid that if she disappoints one more person there would be enough people to form a club against her at that point. That’s the reason why she was glad that the day was coming to an end without any further meetings. 

And yet. 

Yet Jon stands in front of her, his small smile soon fading, leaving his lips slightly parted in confusion as he stares at her quizzically, and all she feels is  _ relief _ . Not fear, nor anxiety of messing up for the umpteenth time. Just pure, genuine relief, as if his presence is an invitation to finally relax. 

Judging by his expression she must have been speechless for quite a long time by now, but she can’t help it. Her heart is hammering in her chest, whether from surprise or something else she doesn’t know, and even without checking she knows her knuckles on the door must’ve turned white now from resisting the urge to jump into Jon’s arms. 

When she finally speaks, her voice is so quiet she can barely hear her own words. 

“It’s not Friday.” It’s all she can bloody say, right before mentally cursing at herself.

Jon’s mouth turns into a smile, his brows arching in fake disillusion. “‘M not gonna lie, I was kind of expectin’ another reaction.”

“I’m happy to see you,” she says, returning the smile. “I really am.”

Jon’s eyes study her for a second, his analytic look making her feel like an open book. “You don’t look happy, though.”

“You’ve got a sad-radar now?” 

“Somethin’ like that.” He grins. 

She pauses. 

Her hand still rests firmly on the door as they keep glancing at each other. The freezing air hits her face like needles, but Jon seems comfortable in the cold, at night, like it was his element. It makes him look incredibly charming and mysterious. He’s always so effortlessly captivating, looking wild and composed at the same time, from his raven curls, and the depth of his irises, grey as the steel, to his muscular body, radiating so much warmth, no matter how cold it is outside. 

“I fucked up a little,” Dany tells him at the end. 

He lets out a soft chuckle. “It’s a good radar indeed.”

She laughs for the first time that day. 

“You need help with those?” Jon then asks, pointing at the sack behind her.

“Yeah, thanks.” She gives him a small smile and lets him in. 

Even though it’s not the first time she’s been alone with Jon, somehow being together in the pet shop feels more intimate, as if being for once so close to the people made her feel more exposed. 

She watches him take the trash out the door, collecting all the sacks on the sidewalk before throwing them out one by one. Dany helps him despite his protests and of course Jon doesn’t miss the chance to joke about her size when she grabs one bag that is easily taller than her. 

“And you look like Santa,” she snaps on the way back to the store. 

He laughs. “No way! Only ‘cause I have a beard? It’s  _ black.” _

“Well, you’re teenage Santa, then.”

At that he burst out in laughter and Dany can’t help but study his features at every new expression he makes. When he laughs his eyes smile too, she notices, making it impossible to see the iris. His teeth are  _ insanely  _ white, and she would bet he didn’t even have a treatment or anything to make them look that nice. She likes the way his cheeks flush when she gets caught observing him, and the way he breaks his composure once he feels comfortable. She loves that she makes him feel so. 

Jon’s eyes finally leave hers and take a scan of the place, seeing it empty for the first time. He walks slowly along the aquarium, the bluish light sending colored shadows over his face, until he turns around and stops in front of the iguanas and his eyes grow wide. 

“Are these…?”

“Iguanas.” Dany comes to his side, smiling. “This is Viserion, that one is Rhaegal...” She points at the yellow iguana first with one finger, then at the green one. “And here’s Drogon,” she tells him, sticking one hand in the tank and caressing the black iguana’s head. 

Jon huffs a laugh. “Are you  _ pettin’  _ him? It’s an iguana, not a dog, I mean–” He stops talking all of sudden as Dany turns to him and flashes him a deadly glare that makes his words die in his throat at once. 

“It’s good. Definitely good. Better even, aye,” he blurts out, petrified, and if he hadn’t just compared her iguanas to dogs she would be laughing already at his reaction. “The most pettable animals in the country indeed. Look.” Without any warning he sticks his hand in the tank as well, so fast that she doesn’t have the time to stop him. 

Her heart starts racing. “Jon, no, wait!” She places her own hand on his arm to make him withdraw the hand. “They’re very unpredictable, they can be really–”

Dany’s look falls to Jon’s hand, now resting softly on Rhaegal’s small head, the animal watching him from his spot with wide emerald eyes full of curiosity and anything but fear. He keeps passing his thumb against Rhaegal’s torso, slowly and tenderly, not to scare him away, while the other two move around nonchalantly. She knows these lizards better than any other animal in the shop and never before has Dany seen them so calm and at ease at the touch of someone who wasn’t her. 

“–dangerous,” she concludes in a whisper. 

“I’ve seen worse,” Jon states with a smile, finally removing his hand and looking at her radiantly, making her heart beat faster again but for a completely different reason. “Did you name all the animals here?”

She shakes her head. “No, just them. I… I want to take them home with me. Someday.” 

“Why not now?”

“I’m afraid of how my brother might behave around them.” 

“They’re not the only ones who are unpredictable, are they?” he asks, his smile becoming sad. 

“Yeah…” She looks up at him, so close to her, like he has been before but never indoors. They’ve never shared such an intimate moment where no one could see them. The thought makes her chest swell, anxiety and excitement pooling all over her body and Dany can’t recall the last time she had felt all these emotions for a person from just  _ standing  _ in front of them. 

“Did you talk to him?”

“Uhm?” She’s so lost in her thoughts she barely hears the question.

“Did you talk to your brother? You know, about how you feel.”

“Not really. But I think it’s getting better at home and this morning we went to therapy together,” she tells him while turning around and taking the broom. For how easy she finds it to open up to Jon, she always feels uncomfortable talking about her family. Living or not, that is. 

“Was it hard?”

“Kinda. At therapy it’s good because he can finally let go of the control and give it to another person so he seems calmer we can talk, but I hate to have to rely on a third person to get along with my own brother.” She stops, racking her brain to find the right words to describe it. She went through hard, and that was definitely not it. It just… “It just feels like I never fit,” she decides. “Nothing that I do feels right.”

“Dany.” Jon places a hand on her shoulder and the moment the spot warms up at this touch her heart misses a beat. The look in his eyes is so earnest, so  _ understanding  _ that peace settles in her at once. “You’re bein’ way too harsh on yourself,” he tells her, squeezing her arm. “So what, you messed up. Yet you’re ‘ere feelin’ shit about it. People mess up all the time but most of them don’t make a problem out of it.”

She raises a brow. “Uhm, I’m sorry?” 

Jon chuckles. “No, I mean… You’ve got issues to work on, for sure, but… but you’re not a bad person, Dany. You care. You do care about people.” He smiles.

Dany almost forgets to blink at hearing his words. “Pretty much everyone thinks the opposite,” she admits in a whisper, recalling Missandei and Tyrion’s words. Suddenly Jon’s look feels unbearable like it could get to her soul with those iron-colored irises, if he only wanted to. Sometimes, when he looks at her so deeply, Dany feels almost like he already knows it all – her past, her fears, her passions. He’s only too chivalrous or maybe too shy to make assumptions. Assumptions she’s afraid might end up being true. 

“Well, in that case...” Dany feels Jon’s fingers on her face and the contact leaves her breathless for a second. He lifts her chin up to meet her eyes and he’s already flashing her an endearing smile that leaves her no choice but to return it. As always. “I think we’ll have to find a way to prove them wrong.” 

The plural makes her smile grow wider. 

* * *

On Friday night Jon shows up in front of the shop as always, his back resting on a column, stargazing. 

They hadn’t cancelled their date or anything, but Dany had feared that, since they had already met on Monday, maybe he would postpone their weekly rendezvous until next week. Which is ridiculous, of course; he would’ve had no reason to ditch her. They have a deal, after all.

Problem is, Dany had never been scared of being ditched by a guy in her entire life. She never cared. 

Yet here she is, being paranoid over the kindest of them all. 

“Hey you,” she calls to him from the threshold. 

He turns around immediately, a small smile already tugging at his lips when their eyes meet as he greets her with a nod. Then his stare moves lower to scan her and Dany internally swears when she catches his brow furrowing in a mix of confusion and horror.

“What on  _ earth  _ are you wearin’?”

Dany sighs with a grimace. “It’s the new Christmas uniform.” He keeps studying her outfit – a bright red polo and matching pants with a pattern of golden animals – so shocking that it would make her laugh for sure, if she wasn’t the one wearing it. 

“Please tell me they pay you extra money for that.”

“No, but I get these free every year.”

“And that’s good because…?”

“‘Cause every year I save on gift paper.”

Jon bursts into laughter and the sound warms her up to the core, making her smile as well. 

“Really? They change the holiday uniform every year?”

Dany shrugs. “My boss loves Christmas and wants to keep it original.” 

“Why not.” He chuckles again, his eyes back on her outfit. “I’m afraid you have to change tonight, though.”

“Do I embarrass you?” She arches her brows, ready to snap at him, but Jon’s smile doesn’t fade at her reaction. On the contrary, a grin appears on his face, as if she had just said something absurd.

“No, but we’ll have to sneak around tonight and  _ that _ — ” He points at her polo with a skeptic nod. “Kinda draws the eye.” 

“Where are you taking me?” The harsh tone is now long forgotten. Dany feels her heart pounding in anticipation already at the thought of them running hand in hand in the dark, careful not to make a sound in the silence of the streets, just like a movie.

After all, she never was one to stick to the rules.

“We’re goin’ in the castle,” Jon says.

The dream dissolves, eyes widening in shock. “ _ In  _ the castle?”

“That’s right.” He smirks.

“Isn’t it closed at night?”

“No, just guarded.”

“Oh, then it’s fine,” she deadpans.

“It’s goin’ to be okay, I work there,” he reassures her.

“You do?”

“Aye.”

“Oh.”

It hits her just now then after three weeks of dates she never really asked him about his job. 

“Go change, I’ll wait for you here.”

She goes back into the shop to change clothes in the employees room, where luckily she always leaves a spare shirt and jeans for any eventuality. She dresses up quickly, purposely leaving the first three buttons of the collar open and tucking the shirt in her high waisted jeans. Checking herself in the mirror, Dany lets down her hair, brushes it a little and adjusts her make-up in a hurry.

When she goes back outside, Jon’s grin turns immediately in a soft smile, until his lips gradually part while taking her in. It makes her wonder how he would react if he saw her all dressed up for a real date, high heels on and a beautiful dress that wouldn’t leave much to the imagination. Maybe in August, when she would be actually able to wear it without any risk of hypothermia.

Then again, when Jon’s eyes land inevitably on her exposed cleavage for a blissful minute, Dany feels anything but cold. 

* * *

“I thought you said you work here,” she hisses in a whisper to Jon, now peeking out from a retrowall of the castle to check that no one is coming. 

“I do,” he replies, his back still to her. “Not my shift, though.”

“And you don’t have a badge or something to get in?” Dany asks skeptically, becoming more impatient every second. She had pictured it like an action romcom in her head, not a bad parody of Mission Impossible. 

“Do you know how easy it is to falsify a badge?” He turns around to throw her a glare. “Even if I did have one of those it wouldn’t matter. Besides,” he continues, his attention drawn back to the empty courtyard. “Wouldn’t be as fun.”

And before she has the time to protest with a detailed lecture of what kind of humor she actually defines as fun, Jon grabs her hand, muttering a quick “hurry!” and pulls her behind him as he suddenly jerks towards the building. 

He drags her through the entrance and, before anyone sees them, they silently sneak in, as she follows him in a rush along the cold, wide hallways of the palace. Too overwhelmed by a sense of fear and excitement at the same time, Dany almost forgets to take a look at the surrounding. 

On Dragonstone there’s only one castle where the ancient royalty used to live, but this one fortress has nothing to do with the one she saw on her island. Despite its roots, splendour is the last thing to pop up in Dany’s mind, seeing the gray walls and simple columns that adorn the hallways. Even the ceilings, where back in Dragon’s castle appeared beautiful, colorful frescos, are nothing but cold stone, sometimes carved with abstract motifs when it probably led to an important chamber. Jon never stops at any of those, though. 

“Jon, where–”

“Shh,” he whispers, tightening his grip on her hand. “We’re almost there.”

He moves around so easily, as if he belongs there. It makes sense, since he told her that he works as a guard in the castle but still, Dany can’t stop being amazed by his orientation, the way he turns to a hallway without thinking about it twice, how he knows which spots of a room are more exposed before even getting there, or the hidden corners created by ancient furniture that help them blend in. 

He’s more than a guard. He’s like  _ part _ of the castle.

They rapidly cross a room full of portraits that she has no time to contemplate because of their hurry, then the umpteenth corridor, smaller and darker than the previous ones, the only source of light coming out of a small exit at the end of it with a torch on top. With narrowed eyes, Dany approaches the rocky porch, Jon’s hand firm on her back to lead her, as if only the action of breaking that contact would leave her in danger. A cold, gentle breeze brushes her face as she steps out, and to her surprise her shoes don’t hit tiles this time, but soft snow, covering the little grass that’s survived the harsh weather of the North, that somehow had reached even that round stain of paradise in the heart of the castle.

And then her jaw eventually drops. 

She’s staring at a garden. A bunch of bushes and small trees circle the square where at the centre, odd and majestic, stands a lonely tree of a totally different kind. As she walks slowly, fascinated, toward the plant, Dany can tell immediately that it is no ordinary tree, not just by its impressive size, but for the strange colors it shows. The leaves are scarlet, their red veins standing out in the white snow like bloodstains, a stark contrast with the paleness of its trunk as well, greenish and blending almost completely with the frost around it. 

She stops in front of it to study it closer and the more Dany takes it all in, the more she feels like she’s in a fairy garden that has nothing to do with the North for how stunning it is, and yet, somehow, it fits. 

“What is it?” she asks softly. 

Jon comes to her side, a sheepish smile on his face as he watches her from the corner of his eye. “It’s a weirwood. Never heard of it?”

She shakes her head and turns to him, silently expecting for him to continue.

He clears his throat. “Well, weirwoods are sacred trees. They used to be all over Westeros and the North, but this one here is the only one left in the country because eventually they were all cut down to use for building materials,” he explains. “The ancient people believed they incarnated the gods and used to have rituals in front of them, like oaths, ceremonies and marriages. That’s why the tree is usually set at the centre of a castle, as the heart of the city.”

“Do they still?” Her voice had lowered for some reason, as if speaking loudly would ruin the intimacy of the moment. Dany doesn’t really know whether to define it intimate or not, but a deep part of her somehow wants it to be. 

“Aye. My brother actually got married here.” He smiles widely, a memory visibly crossing his mind. 

“Really? How was it?” she asks, curious.

“It was small, kind of an elopement. They don’t actually allow many people in here so even if you wanted to do differently, you couldn’t. And they set the lights all over the bushes, and both my brother and the bride wore silver, because that’s the family color…” he drifts off for a moment, his eyes saddening all of sudden. As an automatic move, Dany places a hand on his shoulder and takes a step closer. 

She’s about to ask him if there was something wrong, but Jon interjects. “My little sister managed to show up late even for our brother’s wedding,  _ of course _ ,” he continues, huffing a laugh at the memory. “You can’t even imagine how much energy it took to keep my other sister from stranglin’ her. It would’ve been the most iconic and bloodiest wedding in the history if it hadn’t been for me, I swear.”

Dany bursts into laughter, picturing the scene. “But it was beautiful.”

“Aye, it was.” He smiles.

“How was the dress?”

“It was… long.”

“And I thought you would’ve been vague about it.”

He rolls his eyes, clearly amused. Jon pauses for a minute, recalling every detail of that day, or maybe just trying to put them into words. Then finally he swallows down a failed attempt to hide his nervousness and that makes her bite back a smile, and says, “It was sleeveless, ‘cause they married in Summertime,” he starts. “And it was made of silk… like your shirt.” His eyes dart down for a moment, before locking back into hers, and Dany suddenly feels her cheeks warmer. “Just tighter.”

“Oh.”

_ A very good point, Dany. _

“It made her look regal, although it would’ve looked nice on… you.”

“How so?” her mouth feels dry all of sudden. They had come closer and closer at every word he said and without realizing they now stood only inches apart, eyes staring into the other’s and both out of breath even if they had stopped running half an hour ago. 

“You’re paler,” he simply says. Like an urge he’s unable to control, his hand comes to brush her cheek to reinforce his statement, and Dany can’t help but close her eyes at the contact. “Your skin is like porcelain.”

“Wow,” she says dumbstruck, staring at him. “I thought you weren’t good with words, Jon Snow.”

He grins. “I try harder when it’s worth it.”

And without waiting for her response he starts leaning in, her eyes closed already in anticipation as she feels his hand softly grabbing her waist to pull her slightly closer. 

Dany feels his warm breath on her face, and she has to remind herself to breathe as well or her lungs might combust; she has to grip his arms not to shake at his proximity, and she tries to ignore her hammering heart to focus on his touch, on his warmth, his scent… 

The screams. 

“HEY! WHAT’RE YOU DOIN’ HERE?!”

Dany can practically hear the crack on the dreamy ball breaking, even before spotting the security man rushing towards them. They don’t even have the time to give him a double-take and react at once, Jon taking her hand and pulling her behind him as he runs past the weirwood where another exit that she hadn’t noticed before shows up. 

Loads of questions cross her mind about Jon’s reaction, but her heart is pounding too fast in her throat to let her speak, whether from panic or feelings, she doesn’t know. Probably both. 

For a frightening moment Dany thinks they’re doomed for good, the guard’s voice refusing to fade behind then. Still running, she’s already making excuses up in her head, desperately relying on those three free theatre classes she took in middle school to fake a hangover in case the guard caught them, but then Jon’s inner GPS finally pays off again and, somehow, they’re out of the castle. 

Panting like she just lost a lung on the way – she still hasn’t ruled that out – Dany finally opens her eyes and notices they haven’t ended up on the same side of the castle from where they got in, and she feels disoriented for a moment. This side faces the street, not the hill like the other entrance, and she almost cries from joy when she also spots the sign of a bus stop a few feet away. 

“Well this was definitely  _ not _ a cliché date,” she manages to let out after a while, peeking up to study his face. Jon doesn’t look as exhausted from the crazy run as she is, standing composed by her side as he tries to support her on the nearest bench. 

“How do you know this is not a Northern cliché?” he replies with a smirk.

“Please tell me it’s not a Northern cliché,” she begs. “There’s wild, and then there’s just stupid.”

He chuckles. “Kind of romantic too, though.”

Her laugh turns into a smile as well. “Kind of,” she echoes. 

“And practical.”

“Practical?” She looks at him amused.

“Aye, you definitely burnt half of all that junk food shit calories you eat with all that runnin’,” he deadpans with a grin, and Dany has to gather up all her neurons not to cave at his playful smile and the Northern accent combined together. 

Instead, she limits herself to hitting him softly on the shoulder, restating her own smile from turning obviously dumb. 

She’d stay with him all night. All week, if he let her. For a moment she strongly considers it, but then headlights appear at the end of the road, and the unmistakable noise of the bus coming breaks the silence.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

“No no, I’ll be fine. It’s like twenty minutes, don’t worry.” 

“You sure?”

“Sure.” She smiles.

Then, to her surprise, Jon leans in, his cologne scent invading her system like every time he’s close and kisses her cheeks. His lips linger just a bit on her skin, enough to make her hold her breath for those holy seconds, enough to leave goosebumps dancing on her body even when he steps away. 

It’s a simple, warm kiss, and it leaves her wondering all the way back home about her future for once, instead of rewinding the past all over again. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you're liking the fic so far. Hit me up on tumblr- I'm ronsweasley! 
> 
> Thank you for reading ♡


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